I'll Ask For The Sea
by stalrua
Summary: Fed up with the future her royal status holds for her, Princess Emma runs away and ends up in the port town of Tortuga. She grows up there, working as a barmaid with her friend Ruby, but a chance encounter with a charming pirate sets into motion events she never could've imagined and reminds her that she can't run from who she is forever. Formerly titled "Some Kind of Adventure."
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would already be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I also don't own one of Hook's little pickup lines – I actually swiped it from Captain Kirk in the Star Trek movie. It just seemed so Hook-like that I couldn't help it. Let me know if you can spot it!

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**Chapter One**

**A Proper Lady and A Charming Pirate**

"_She couldn't help but think there was a little more to life somewhere else. After all, it was a great big world with lots of places to run to."_

* * *

"Sit up straight, head high, hands resting on your lap. No, don't grip your hands together; you're not in an arm wrestling match. Just lightly place one hand over the other – yes, like that. A princess should always look at ease."

To make a point, Emma slumped back into the chair.

"Emma Swan, what on earth are you doing?" Her mother's tone was shocked and exasperated.

"This is me at ease, Mom!"

"Well, you slouching like that is not lady-like in the least. Looking at ease and being at ease are two very different things. I can only imagine what the guests would say if they saw you like that; now, sit up!"

"I don't care what they'd say…"

"Well, I do!" Her mother took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "We are held to a higher standard, Emma. We have to look and behave like the royals we are."

"I though you said we're no different than everyone else in the kingdom." She hated that she sounded like a petulant child but she was purposely trying to get a rise out of her mother. They were both frustrated; they'd been at this all day. It was only a fortnight until her twelfth birthday and, to celebrate, her parents had planned an extravagant ball and invited, what seemed like, everyone in the kingdom. This would be the first time many of the other royals would meet her which, in turn, meant daily princess lessons for Emma so she could be presented as a proper young lady, the daughter of King Charming and Queen Snow.

She hated it.

"That is true; we are no different than anyone else, no _better_ than anyone else. But that doesn't change the fact that we are their leaders. They look to us to govern them, rule them, and guide them. We set an example, Emma."

She'd entertained the thought of running away on more than one occasion. The only problem was that, as much as she hated the idea of her future as a royal – being married off to some prince, having to deal with the issues of the kingdom on a daily basis, never getting to go on any of the adventures she dreamed of – she hated the idea of leaving her parents. Even though they frustrated her, she loved them and hated the thought of disappointing them.

Emma quietly sighed and sat up, crossing her hands delicately on her lap and schooling what she hoped was a pleasant look on her face. She must have been successful as her mother's face broke out into a smile.

"There now, you look like a perfect young lady!"

But Emma didn't want to be a perfect young lady – she wanted to be free.

* * *

The noise in the room was cacophonous. The little bar of the inn was small enough as it was; with all of the men crowding the area, shouting and yelling, it made the place seem increasingly claustrophobic. Emma rushed to fill five tankards with ale for the group of men situated at the bar. They were young, probably the lowest of the low out of the men on their ship, but they were confident; each of them was shamelessly trying to flirt with her.

"Honey, you can't leave me hanging like that. Come on, tell me your name. I told you mine…" As if that made any difference.

"It's a madhouse this evening!" A tall, leggy brunette wearing figure-hugging and stare-inducing trousers and a breezy blouse strutted past her carrying a tray full of empty mugs. "Been a while since we've had a crowd this big."

The brunette's name was Ruby and she was Emma's most trusted girlfriend.

A twelve year old Emma first showed up in Tortuga, fresh off the face of a merchant trading ship, in the middle of torrential downpour with no plans and no idea where to go. Desperate and alone, she had wandered through the town looking for a place to stay; the citizens of the pirate-filled town were less than trusting and unwilling to house her, despite the fact that she was just a child. That's when she stumbled upon The Salty Dog Inn. Ruby and August, her older brother, were the first people she talked to and, luckily enough for her, happened to be the inn owner's children. With their help, which involved much pleading on the part of Ruby, she had secured not only extended lodging at the inn, but also a job working in the little pub downstairs.

"I know! I'm exhausted and it's not even late, yet. These guys are just getting started."

"And there's still more trying to come in, just in case you didn't notice."

Emma swung her eyes to the main door. It conveniently opened at that moment, giving her a glimpse out where she could just make out groups of sailors and pirates huddled amidst the swirling snow. Great… yeah, it was most definitely going to be a long night.

"Hey babe… babe!" Her young would-be lover was calling to her again. "When do you get a break? You can come outside with me; get some fresh air." Fresh air? This kid was an idiot. It was the middle of winter, not to mention it was snowing outside. Fresh air, her ass.

Emma was now twenty-six. She'd grown up here and now considered the inn, its regular patrons, and the exciting Tortuga more of a home than the shining castle she was born and lived in for twelve years. Of course, that didn't mean she never missed her old life; it would've been easy to remain a princess. Everything handed to you on a silver platter, never wishing for anything, never having to struggle for something you want. Yes, it would have been very easy; but those easy outs were never a part of her dreams for adventure and that's why she'd left. Well, maybe not the only reason, but most definitely a major part.

"Wow, Emma, he seems like such a winner; you should definitely take him up on his offer for some fresh air." She gave Ruby a look, clearly telling her not to encourage the boys, but they'd already heard her. Their little ringleader obviously missed the sarcasm laced through Ruby's statement.

"Yeah, honey, you should listen to your friend. I can show you a good time, if that's what you want."

Oh, for the love of… with the little encouragement he'd received, compliments of Ruby, there was going to be no way he'd leave her alone now. Instead, Emma did the only thing she could do – glare at her friend who was making an already annoying situation insufferable. But in the true fashion of a friend, Ruby just smiled sweetly back at her before loading up her tray with fresh drinks to take out and exiting the bar, leaving her to deal with the boys.

"Go get 'em, tiger." She whispered on her way out. Emma returned to her work filling drinks and taking orders.

"Come on, blondie – I've made many a girl scream; I could do the same for you."

That was wishful thinking on his part. She'd be surprised if he'd even bedded anyone before, much less become experienced enough to make her scream. Either way, she was tired of his nonsense; she had other things to be doing, other patrons to be serving.

"Listen up, _boy_." She put as much emphasis on his young age as possible. Nothing took the wind of a pirate's sails, no pun intended, more than a reference as to how young and inexperienced he was. "You're young and stupid and obviously plastered. Here's a drink on me; now go bother someone else." She shoved the mug at him and turned to another man ready to order.

"What can I get you?"

"Sweetheart, I'm still talking to you." She ground her teeth in frustration.

"And I am _done_ talking to you."

"I think you'll be done when I say you're done!" His eyes were dark as he reached over the counter in an attempt to grab her; his mistake. She slid out of his reach, grabbed a pitcher of water, and promptly threw it in his face. He spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes. It was a shame he was preoccupied; he didn't even see the wooden club coming for him. Emma held the club above his head and let gravity pull it downward. There was really no point in putting any effort into it; gravity was more than enough for the solid piece of wood. It hit his head with a solid _thunk_ and the regular patrons laughed uproariously; they knew that sound, some of them from experience.

"Son of a bitch!" His curse was loud and angry. Emma leaned forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. His eyes were watering as he held one hand over the sore spot on his head.

"I'm not going to tell you again, kid – leave me alone."

Then she shoved him away and turned away from the bar, reaching for her drink and downing it in one long swig.

"Excellent, Emma! It's been forever since we've been able to use the club." At least Ruby was entertained by the spectacle. "But honestly, you didn't have to make him cry."

"Oh, tell me he didn't!" She laughed intensely when Ruby nodded.

"He pushed right through everyone and left, tears in his eyes the whole way!"

"Poor thing. And he was just a young one, too."

"You probably broke his heart. Now he'll never trust another woman again."

"Don't worry, Ruby. I'm sure if he ever needs reminding of how wonderful a woman can be, he can always turn to you." They both laughed again, Ruby picking up her tray.

"You know me – I would never turn away a poor, young soul looking for a romp in the bed. It's a shame, really; I probably could've taught him a few tricks."

"Ruby, the only you'd do is make his youthful ears burn with your dirty bedroom talk!" Emma had to yell to be heard over the patrons. Ruby threw a foxy grin over her shoulder and Emma couldn't help but laugh. Throwing the towel onto the bar, she turned to the next man waiting for a drink. "What can I get you?"

His eyes were so very blue.

That was her first thought.

Then she mentally slapped herself for sounding like such an idiot, even if it was just within the confines of her mind. Widening her view past his eyes, she took in the rest of him – dark and tousled hair, startlingly blue eyes, stubble running along a strong jaw, leather-clad attire, sword dangling from his hip.

Pirate.

"Hello, beautiful."

He flashed a confident smirk her direction and, although she hated to admit it, her breath hitched. He was gorgeous. Was it even appropriate to call a man gorgeous? Attractive? Striking? Good-looking? Handsome? _Ruggedly_ handsome?

"Can I get some rum, milady?"

"Sure thing." Emma whirled around, spurred into action by the familiarity of an order to fulfill. The mug filled, she turned and slid it to his waiting hands – or hand, rather. Instead of a flesh and blood hand, his left arm ended in a wickedly sharp hook. Well that was interesting…

"You're working too hard. You should come sit with me; take it easy for a bit."

Tempting, but no.

"Sorry, I'm swamped. Girl's gotta make a livin', you know." While that was true, she also knew that no one would ever begrudge her for taking a break. But he didn't know that – or at least she didn't think he did. Judging by the smug look on his face, he might.

"What's ten minutes? These scallywags can take care of themselves for a bit."

"I'm too busy. Really." Emma set to work on another sailor's order.

"You hesitated."

She glanced at him briefly through her lashes as she poured some ale but refused to answer because, damn it, she _had_ hesitated; he just wasn't supposed to have picked up on it.

"No need to be shy about it, love." He was leaning over the bar towards her, smirking again. She slid the drink to a tattooed and pierced sailor before turning to the pirate in front of her, arms crossed.

"What'll it take for you to leave me alone?"

"Just ten minutes over there." He gestured over his shoulder to an empty spot at a table in the back; the other men sitting at the table must have been saving the spot for him. "Just you and me."

"Doesn't look like it'll be just you and me. Looks like it'll be you and me and about fifteen of your crew."

"They won't bother us, love; won't even eavesdrop. I've taught 'em better than that." He winked at her and she smiled, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it.

"Is this guy bothering you?" Emma should have known August would notice the attention she was receiving and step in; ever since she'd showed up on the doorstep of the inn looking like a drowned rat, he'd taken it upon himself to protect her, stepping into a self-appointed big brother role. She could sense him as he came to stand behind her, obviously trying to intimidate the pirate. August was roughly five years older than Emma and Ruby but his appearance would fool most people; he looked much older than he was. Unlike her, he had been born and raised in Tortuga which meant he didn't look very different than the hordes of pirates that came through town – large build, bulging muscles, scruffy beard, tattoos covering most of his visible skin. Between the ruckus caused with the kid and now this one chatting her up, he'd evidently felt the need to step in.

"Unbelievably so, but it's nothing I can't handle."

"You can handle me – that's an invitation."

Emma was no innocent maiden; growing up in a town like Tortuga meant that there were always drunken fights to break up, hands reaching for her backside to dodge, and cheesy pickup lines from guys trying to get into her pants. For the most part, she tried not to indulge the patrons in their attempts at flattery and flirting but she couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of her mouth so she took a drink in an attempt to hide it.

"Wow… does that kind of stuff really work on women?"

"You tell me, love."

He was good, she'd give him that.

He lifting his tankard of ale and took a drink, never looking away from her. All of a sudden the room seemed a little too warm, despite the frosty air coming through the doors. He lowered his drink, the smirk returning to his face.

"Emma, there's a lot of people here – let's get back to work." August was obviously tired of this pirate's pickup lines and probably worried by her lack of just brushing him off, but she couldn't bring herself to break the eye contact so she was thankful when his eyes slid up to a point above her head. The spell broken, Emma also turned to glance up to August's face; if looks could kill, this pirate would be dead. She needed to act quickly. Drunken fights between patrons was one thing; drunken fights between patrons and the inn owner's son was another.

"I'm going." Emma touched August's arm lightly, drawing his attention back to her. "Let it go, it's no big deal." And with that, she made her way down to the opposite end of the bar; she could feel the heat of the pirate's gaze on her back but when she glanced back he wasn't there anymore.

The night dragged on and Emma managed to stay plenty busy; there must have been a good number of ships come into port today as the inn was packed to the brim. The attractions of Tortuga always meant there were people visiting the town so they never really had a slow night, but the mass of people and activity this evening was beginning to give her a slight headache. Fortunately for Emma, she was behind the bar tonight which meant Ruby got the floor. She spotted her dark-haired and red-lipped friend swat away a hand attempting to grope her with practiced ease, not missing a beat as she served tankards of ale to the group before her.

"What'll you be havin'?" A new group of men had made their way to the bar.

"Eight tankards of rum." He paused to peruse her. "And maybe a little of you, sweetheart. How 'bout you keep me company later? It's gettin' chilly out and my bed gets a little cold at times."

"Not gonna happen, buddy." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and set about filling the mugs.

"Good lord, Emma. I'm not going to have any ass left to grab by the end of tonight if they all keep this up!" Emma spared a glance for her friend as she rushed behind the bar, dumping empty glasses into the wash bin and filling new ones to take back out. "They're positively lecherous this evening and they're beginning to go for more than just my ass. You're lucky to be back here, that's for sure."

"True that. I'm getting enough of it with a block of wood separating us; I can't imagine how bad it is in the middle of them." Emma could imagine it, she'd been there plenty of times, but she knew Ruby wanted the pity so she indulged her and took pity on her situation.

"It's getting late, though; they'll start turning in soon." Ruby paused, leaning against the bar for a breather. Emma grunted her agreement and handed the rum-filled mugs to the group of guys, ignoring his last attempt to get her into his bed. "Oh, I've been meaning to tell you – you have an admirer."

Emma pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes as if to push away the aching in her head. "Really, in an inn filled with drunken pirates? Who would've thought?" She heard Ruby's soft laugh and smiled in response. The pressure of her hands against her eyes was beginning to cause colorful spots of light to appear in the darkness; she dropped her arms and blinked until her vision returned to normal.

"He's been staring at you for most of the evening."

"Most likely trying to stare down my blouse." Emma turned back to the bar. "What can I get you?"

"Really, though. He's not nearly as revolting as most of the guys here."

"Don't care. Here's your drink. What about you – what'll you be havin'?"

"He's actually very charming…"

"Then why don't you go after him?" Her attempts at blowing Ruby off were obviously not working so Emma made an attempt to appeal to her friend's sexuality. It was common knowledge that Ruby was a little more promiscuous than Emma – well, maybe more than a little. If she was interested in sleeping with someone, all she had to do was turn on the charm; the guys never knew what hit them. Emma had never been able to flaunt her sexuality the same way, despite Ruby's insistence that she had all the goods. She'd just never been as comfortable vamping it up just for some casual sex.

"I would have but he seems very insistent on you. I was serving their drinks and – I'll admit – I tried to flirt with him but all he asked about was you. Kept wanting to know your name; I didn't tell him, though." Emma sighed in relief; names were too personal a thing to just hand out to every guy that came through the inn. She was glad Ruby understood that. "See, look! He's still staring at you."

"I'm not looking."

"He's right over there." She ignored the hand pointing into the distance in front of her face, studiously washing the pile of mugs in the wash bin instead. "Emma…" Ruby was pouting, hands on her hips. "Emma, seriously. Emma, stop ignoring me and just look at him!"

"I don't need to see him; I'm not interested."

"You might be if you saw his pretty face."

"For god's sake, Rubes, don't you have drinks to get out or something." Emma threw the mug she'd been cleaning back into the suds and glared at her friend in mock frustration but Ruby just stared back with a Cheshire-like grin, resolute. It was a silent battle of wills that Emma knew she'd lose; she'd never been able to outlast Ruby. "Ugh, fine! Let's just get this over with so I can actually get some work done. Where is he?"

Emma didn't think it was possible but Ruby's grin grew even wider before she grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and facing her towards the far corner of the bar. Emma had to search for a minute before her eyes met his; it was the same pirate that had done a better job than most at trying to woo her earlier. A roguishly charming smirk broke out on his face when he realized he had her attention. She tried to fight the grin she couldn't help and shook her head ever so slightly in exasperation; he was determined. A few hours of drinking with his men had not yet caused him to forget about her. Most men harassed her at the bar before giving up and moving on to easier women; apparently, he was different. He raised his hand and crooked his finger towards her; the message was clear – _come here_. She cocked an eyebrow at him. He winked at her in response.

"He's a pirate." The excuse was pathetic; as if being a pirate was the worst thing in the world.

"Oh, come on... like that's stopped you before. How long has it been since you've been laid?" She could hear the smirk in her friend's voice; Ruby very well knew how long it had been since the last time she'd slept with someone – too damn long. He moved his head slightly, motioning for her to come over.

"Oh, you should go talk to him!" Ruby obviously hadn't missed his gesture. "I'll take care of the bar for a while – you go talk to him. And then later you can visit his ship; rock it a bit, you know. Make sure it's steady."

"Ruby!" Emma felt her cheeks redden at the insinuation and turned to slap her playfully on the arm.

"Just go! I'm going to be too busy cleaning up tonight to have any fun myself so I have to live vicariously through you. Don't disappoint me!" And with a shove, Ruby pushed her from behind the bar. Emma stood there for a moment before wiping her hands on her trousers and making her way to the pirate in the corner. He grinned at her as she approached.

"Hello, beautiful. I saved you a spot." He shifted over, leaving an empty space between his body and the wall; when she didn't move, he patted it with his right hand, making fun of her hesitance. She threw a look over her shoulder to the bar where Ruby stood, still grinning at her, before turning back to the pirate and sitting in the empty space. Immediately, he slid a tankard of what she assumed to be rum in front of her.

"You've been running around all evening. You must be thirsty."

"And from what I've heard, you've apparently been staring at me all evening. Nothing better to do?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking a slow drink of the warm ale.

"Oh, there are plenty things to do; I just prefer to stare at a beautiful lady than these ugly scoundrels." He motioned to his crew members. "So tell me, love – do you have a name?"

She paused for a bit.

"Perhaps."

There was a coy little smile on her lips; she was flirting with him – damn it, she was _willingly_ and _consciously_ flirting with him. His smug little smirk, the way he spoke to her, his distinct accent. This pirate oozed charm and sex appeal and she couldn't help but be drawn in by it. Or maybe Ruby was right; maybe it had just been too long since she'd slept with someone and so now she – and by she, Emma meant her body – was jumping at the chance for release. But no, it wasn't just that. It was also him.

"Ah, a mysterious lass. No bother, I like a challenge." She couldn't maintain the eye contact, her gaze dropping to her drink.

"So, pirate, where do you hail from?

"I was born in a town just north of here, but I joined a crew as soon as I could walk and have been sailing ever since. I've navigated through all of the waters around here; spent more of my life at sea than on land." He toyed with the tankard. "Although, for the past few years I've been traversing... well, I've been sailing a most treacherous sea. You wouldn't know of it, though; not many do." He added the last bit hastily at the question he probably knew was forming in her mind.

"What an adventure..." And, indeed, it did sound intriguing. "A pirate drifting from place to place; coming in to ports only for supplies and a drink."

"And for the ladies, love."

Emma chuckled. "Oh yes, of course; can't forget the ladies. They must be helpless to your charms, I'm sure."

"They can't resist." They were angled more towards each other now, although Emma couldn't remember ever moving. Their knees were close, almost touching, and his hand rested on the bench mere inches from her leg. She was leaning towards him, now. She shouldn't want him but she was fighting a losing battle with her hormone-driven body.

"So this fierce pirate that's sailed many fearsome waters and battled many foes and plundered many ports and probably ravaged many women..." A snicker slipped out at that point. "Does he have a name?"

He was grinning at her, dangerously attractive; he opened his mouth to answer - or quip some kind of retort - when he paused. Instead, his eyes lost their focus, his head tilted towards the front door. The table they were seated at was relatively close to the front door so they heard the commotion before many of the other patrons. Yelling, pounding, the clash of metal on metal – something was wrong. But before she could say anything, the front door burst open and the entire bar exploded into action. Startled, she stood up and began looking around the bar for Ruby.

"Get behind the bar." She didn't register the words at first, still concerned with trying to find her friend. "Now's not the time for daydreaming, love – get going!" The pirate was in her face now, almost yelling at her. Emma met his eyes briefly before nodding and climbing over the tables. She hugged the wall, trying to stay away from the action; men throughout the bar were fighting, despite the fact that they weren't part of the initial brawl from outside. But that's what happened when someone throws a punch in a bar, she knew that from experience. After scaling the bar and landing safely inside, Emma spotted Ruby crouched below the counter.

"I think we need a bigger club, Em." It was supposed to be a joke but the frightened look in her eyes was contradictory. Out of nowhere, a sword sunk into the bar near Emma's hand and she jumped back, staring into the sea of madness in front of her.

A man grappled with the sword held in his opponent's hand. He managed to land a solid punch before he was fended off; the sword fell with a spray of blood. A large pirate grabbed the shoulder of his challenger, jabbing his cutlass into his gut and ripping it out again just as quickly. The mortally injured man fell to his knees clutching at his stomach. One of the young boys from earlier stumbled towards her, falling against the counter; his hand clutched a wicked gash across his throat as blood streamed from between his fingers. He emitted a distressed and wet-sounding gurgle that made her stomach twist.

"This isn't just a random drunken fight… there's something else going on here. Ruby, these guys are killing each other."

"What?!" The barmaid practically screamed. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of their league.

"Where's my bow?"

"Um… oh god, where was it… it was… in the corner of the kitchen – near the trash bin!"

"Come on." Emma gripped the brunette's hand and dragged her through the kitchen door, spotting the bow and arrows in the corner. Her father had attempted to teach her archery and swordplay at a young age, but archery was the only thing that it seemed she had a natural aptitude for. As it was her only real mode of self-defense, she always kept her bow and arrows close at hand.

"We can go out the back; try to make it to my dad's house?" It was a valid suggestion. They snuck out the back door of the kitchen into the alley behind the inn, crouching in the snowdrift. The winter wind stung Emma's exposed skin. She could see men running through the street at the end of the alley; it was the last place she wanted to go, but they had no choice seeing how it was their only exit. Emma pulled an arrow from her quiver and readied her bow.

"As soon as I say it, you run. Don't look back; just keep going until you're home."

"What about you?" Ruby's eyes were wide and her hands were clenched tightly around Emma's forearms.

"I'll be right behind you, but I have to make sure no one gets us." She spared a quick glance around the corner. It was now or never. "Ready? Ok – go!"

They burst out of the alley, sprinting down the street past the bar. A man turned towards them, their motion catching his eye, and Emma saw him yell for some of his cohorts. Within seconds, a group of men were rushing towards them. Apparently, luck was not on their side. Emma planted her feet and pulled back the bow. One steadying breath, then two before letting her first arrow fly into the leading man's chest. He stumbled back and fell to the ground but there was no time to pause – the rest of the men were still coming at her. She grabbed another arrow and let it fly, then another, and another until the group of men were all splayed out on the ground.

Despite the fact that her hands shook uncontrollably with the adrenaline pulsing through her body, Emma knew she had to get out of there. Suddenly, a man grabbed her arm hard, pulling her roughly towards him and causing her to drop the bow. The man's eyes glinted madly. Panicked, Emma pushed and hit and scratched at her attacker, gaining a few feet of distance between them, but the man had already raised his sword above his head. There was no way she could move fast enough – the strike would hit her, most likely kill her.

But the blow never fell. She stared at the frozen man, eyes wide. His hands were still gripping the sword that was raised above his head, but the blade that was protruding from his abdomen stayed his hand. She watched in horror as the blade was pulled out of his stomach; the man's eyes were glazed over, and the sword dropped from his hands as blood began to bubble from between his lips. Then he fell.

"Watch it, love. I'd hate for something to happen to you before I even knew your name."

It was the pirate – the one that had been talking to her all evening.

He looked away from her, scanning the street, making sure it was secure. "Looks like they're retreating."

Emma studied him. He appeared to be uninjured, but there was a long gash through his leather coat that could have been bad had it landed a few inches closer to his body. Eyes drifting up to his face, she was surprised to find him staring at her.

"Emma! Emma, oh my god – are you ok?" Ruby was frantic with worry as she ran up, grabbing onto Emma's upper arms. "You're not hurt are you? Oh god, August is going to kill me if you're hurt… he'll never forgive me! You're not bleeding, are you? You weren't stabbed? What about those guys – did they touch you?"

"Ruby, I'm fine!" She cut off her panicked friend's rambling. "At the most, I'll have a bruise on my arm where one guy grabbed me. Other than that, I'm not hurt." Ruby's concern melted away into a relief.

"Oh, thank god! I was so worried… I was running just like you said but when I looked back you weren't there. I couldn't see you anywhere." Ruby released her bruising grip and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so glad you're ok."

"You too." Emma hugged her back, giving a little squeeze so she'd know that she'd been just as worried about her.

Ruby released her and stepped back as she noticed the dark-haired pirate. The three were silent for a moment before Ruby muttered something about checking on her brother and scampered away. He stared at her, his eyes betraying something deeper than the carefree and flirtatious spark from earlier in the evening. It was darker – angrier. It caused her to break out in goosebumps even though she knew the anger wasn't directed at her.

"You're not hurt." It wasn't phrased as a question but she saw the look in his eyes; something akin to concern.

"I'm not hurt."

And with that, the tension eased and he smiled at her; not a smirk, or a leer, or a grin – a genuine smile. It was infectious. To prevent a smile of her own, she stared down at the ground between them.

"I owe you thanks, pirate." She refused to meet his eyes. "You saved my life."

"Well, now – don't you sound like a proper lady." Her eyes shot up at his statement; he was grinning, teasing her. "Although, you certainly didn't look a proper lady while you were shooting arrows into those brigands' chests."

"Me? A proper lady? Ha!" She scoffed. "Fancy parties, sipping tea and making small talk, wearing a god-awful dress… where's the fun in that? I'd prefer a crazy bar – even on a night like this – over that any day."

"Too right, love. So…" He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space; there were only a few inches between them now and his smile was making it hard for her to breathe. "Are you going to tell me your name now?" His hand stretched out, reaching for the ends of her hair; he twirled it around his finger waiting for her answer.

Why didn't she want to tell him her name, again? She couldn't seem to remember anymore.

Something about personal and... – why did he have to stare at her like that?

... and about not everyone needing... – why was he still touching her hair?!

... not everyone needing to know something.

Obviously, she couldn't even think coherently anymore. Exasperated, she sighed – oh, why the hell not.

"It's Emma. Emma Swan."

His eyes were such an astonishing shade of blue. She could feel herself sinking into them and absentmindedly thought how he would be trouble.

"Nice to meet you, love. Killian Jones – but most people call me Hook."


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would already be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I, once again, swiped another of Hook's lines from a movie – this time from The Princess and the Frog. Consider it a courtesy of the nights I spend watching Disney movies when I get sick.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**A Temporary Escape and A Surprising Agreement**

"_I believe in kindness… also in mischief."_

* * *

Emma pulled the hood of her cloak a little higher over her head and pushed a telltale strand of blonde hair out of her face; the last thing she wanted was for someone to recognize her. She was currently crouched beside the eastern palace wall, squeezed between a bush and an oak tree and completely hidden from view; it was one of her favorite hiding places but she wasn't hiding today. No, today she was escaping.

Just for a little while, though.

Her morning had started off normally enough. After being awakened for breakfast with her family, she had been ushered off to her morning studies. Also growing up as a princess, her mother had been exposed to all of the best things in life, including the best instructors; because of this, Emma considered her one of the most knowledgeable people in the kingdom. While her father was charismatic, ruling with the genial good nature he learned from growing up on just a humble farm, her mother was wise and compassionate, winning over the people in the kingdom by inspiration and her refinement alone. This was how the two of them managed to spur the people into action and win back the kingdom that was rightfully theirs in the war against the Evil Queen.

Because of her past, her mother considered it of the utmost importance that Emma be given the best instruction. History, mathematics, geography, politics, and culture studies were just a few of the standard lessons she'd go through on a daily basis, although her mother insisted there also be time set aside for the arts – painting and drawing, crafts like sewing or knitting, and music. For the most part, Emma enjoyed her studies and would often drag out the lessons with question upon question for more detail; however, this morning she'd rushed through, denying even the need for a quick break. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she could leave.

Today she was going to the marketplace.

Alone.

Crouched by the wall, Emma shivered with the excitement. She was absolutely not allowed beyond the palace walls without an escort of some sort, but in the midnight hours from a couple nights past, she'd decided she would venture out on her own. She checked her cloak one more time; everyone in the market would recognize her if they saw her face, hence her coverings.

Emma watched the guards traipse past the small gate – she'd chosen one of the smaller, side gates to escape through as it was much more discreet – and turn towards the western wall before she took off at a sprint; with their backs to her, they never even noticed her slip by their post. Emma continued to sprint down the roads, not slowing down until she was comfortably far from the palace. Glancing back at the sparkling towers, she grinned happily and spun in a circle. Freedom at last.

The sound of laughter, drums, and hundreds of voices reached her ears long before she ever caught sight of the market, and when she finally reached it, she was pleased at all the commotion; she loved that the marketplace was always a flurry of movement and sound. Row upon row of tents stretched out before her, vendors attempting to coax buyers to their stands to buy various items. Emma wandered through, pausing here and there to inspect this trinket that would 'cause her true love to find her' or that totem that would 'ward off even the most evil spirit.' She made sure to keep her face hidden, though.

She'd been gone for almost four hours when a colorful tent caught her eye as she turned from the portly gentleman that was currently trying to sell her fish. It wasn't a large tent, but it made up for its lack of size with color; there was every color of the rainbow, and many that were in between, in the items displayed. Emma worked her way through the throng of people until she stood at the tent. Scarves. That's what the vendor was selling, what was so colorful. She reached out, brushing her fingers against the delicate fabric of a lilac colored scarf; it was so beautiful. But she hadn't brought along any money.

"Hello, dear. Would you like to take a closer look?" The seller was an elderly woman with a kind face that reminded her of her grandmother, the one on her father's side; she'd never met her grandparents on her mother's side, them having died before she was born. The lady motioned to the scarf Emma had been admiring. "I'm sure it would look lovely on you."

"Oh, I'd love to but I don't have any money. Thank you, though. They're very pretty." Embarrassingly enough, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Money wasn't the only thing she'd forgotten to bring; she'd also left the palace without remembering to bring along some food.

"Sounds like you're hungry." The lady was still smiling at her. "There's an apple stand right down there a ways. Go down there and tell him Granny sent you; he'll be sure to give you an apple." Emma smiled in appreciation.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." She turned and wound her way past several more tents before she spotted the apple stand. They looked delicious.

"Excuse me, sir?" The man turned, his protruding belly almost hitting her. "I'm terribly hungry and the lady that sells scarves down there – Granny – well, she told me to come down here and tell you that she sent me. She said you'd give me an apple."

"Oh, she told you that, huh?" The man was looking down at her, a sneer on his lips. "Well, too bad, kid. I can't afford to feed charity cases."

Charity cases? The nerve. She had half a mind to inform him that she was no charity case, but he'd already turned back around to face his real, willing-to-pay customers. Oh well, it was her own fault, really. Coming out here without food or money had been dumb; she'd make sure to be better prepared next time. But still… her eyes wandered back to the apples. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was now well past noon, probably closer to dinnertime. The man was still talking to his other customers, his back to her; he would probably never even realize it if… because, really, it was only _one_ apple… and she could always come back another day to repay him. Her hand twitched, itching to reach for the red fruit in front of her.

But stealing was _wrong_.

But she was so _hungry_.

But she couldn't just take something that wasn't hers…

Could she?

Her stomach growled again, the aching hollow feeling making her feel light-headed and slightly sick, and that was the last push she needed. She reached out, snatching the apple closest to her before easing away, trying to slide back into the crowd.

"Hey, that girl stole an apple!"

Emma's eyes shot up in panic; a young woman with a baby on her hip was pointing straight at her and the man was already coming for her, an angry look in his eyes. She pushed against the wall of people behind her, desperate to get away, but he was too quick. In a flash, he'd grabbed her and pulled her forward, away from the crowd and her only chance of escape.

"I told you I ain't no charity case, kid – now, give me that!" He pulled the apple from her hands, tossing it back onto the cart. With his merchandise safely returned, he focused his full attention on Emma. "You think you can steal from Bartok and get away with it? Think you're pretty smart, little thief?" He strengthened his grip on her arm and then pulled her into the air. The man was crushing her wrist, dangling her several feet above the ground; she felt like her shoulder would dislocate at any second, the weight of her body too much for the small socket to hold. Her free hand clawed at the hand wrapped around her wrist like a vice while she attempted a kick towards his body, but it was in vain; her legs were far too short to reach him. He shook her roughly.

"Do you know what we do to thieves around here, girl? We take them in chains to the King and Queen for a trial, and when they're found guilty they're dumped into the prison pit to wait out the rest of their lives alone. That is, unless the King and Queen decide to execute them instead of letting them take up valuable prison room."

Of course, Emma knew that what he was saying was ridiculous; her parents would never treat anyone so atrociously no matter what the crime. Wisely, though, she decided to hold her tongue instead of attempting to refute his statement.

"So what'll it be, girl? Shall I drag you up to the palace in chains? Let them make an example out of you? Answer me, thief!" He shook her roughly again, except this time her hood fell back exposing her face and telling blonde hair. Immediately, the crowd gasped and the man released her wrist in surprise; she fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Emma could hear the whispers race through the crowd like wildfire.

_The princess…_

_It's Princess Emma…_

_What's she doing here?_

_And dressed like that?_

_Where on earth is her escort?_

Her exciting little escapade had come to a crashing end.

"Milady… Princess. Please forgive me!" The man – Bartok – crouched on his knees in front of her. "If I'd known it was you…"

"Sir, stand back, if you will." It was a couple of the palace guards; someone in the crowd must have gone to fetch them when she was exposed. "Princess, are you ok?" The guard reached out, gently taking her wrist in his hand and inspecting it for any breaks.

"I… I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it, Princess. Now, we must get you back to the palace; the King and Queen have been very worried about you."

Great… her parents already knew she'd run off; that meant these guards had already been out looking for her. Emma let the guard pull her to her feet and lead her away to a carriage. As she stepped up into the carriage, she glanced behind her. The crowd hadn't moved an inch, they stood there as if they were frozen, staring at her; Bartok was still kneeling on the ground. She sighed, disappointed, and the driver closed the door.

The ride back to the palace was long, the driver slowly maneuvering the busy streets, but it wasn't nearly long enough. Emma dreaded the conversation she knew would take place when she arrived home. And true enough, as the carriage pulled in front of the palace's main gates, her parents were standing there waiting for her. She waited for the driver to open her door before stepping out, her stomach flopping around nervously as she made her way up the steps.

"Mother." The greeting came out as a tiny whisper. "Father." It was hard to meet their eyes; it was obvious as to how angry and upset they were.

"Let's take this inside, shall we?" Her father's softly spoken words did nothing to ease her nervousness. Emma had learned at a very young age that her father was somewhat quick to anger but that a majority of the time it was fleeting, burning out as quickly as it started; he would react, possibly yell, and then return to his normal self. It was when he remained calm, in times such as this, that it really worried her. She followed her parents wordlessly through the doors, up the grand staircase, and down the hallways to her father's study, doing her best to ignore the pitying stares of the house staff along the way. She felt claustrophobic, ensnared, as her father closed the door.

"We are very disappointed in you, Emma! I don't know what possessed you to leave the palace unattended. You're only ten, Emma – ten! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to wander off alone? What could've happened to you?" Her mother was yelling at her and it was the first time Emma had ever experienced that; her mother was always calm, never yelled. Guess there's a first time for everything. "You are a princess. There are plenty of people in this kingdom who would gladly snatch up a young princess for their own gain."

"Why would anyone want me?" Emma was confused. "I haven't done anything."

"It's not what you have or haven't done – it's simply who you are." It was her father that spoke now, her mom having turned away seemingly unable to even look at her. His voice was calmer. "You are an important part of this kingdom, of this family. We love you so much, sweetheart, and we would do anything, absolutely anything, for you… and everyone in this kingdom knows it. If there were someone out there that wished to do us harm, wished to get to us, all they'd have to do is go through you."

Emma couldn't help but notice the shudder that swept through her mother.

"But why would someone want to hurt or get to you? I've already heard all the stories about how you and Mom finally caught the Evil Queen and banished her from the kingdom… without her around, there's no one else to hurt you. I thought everyone was happy now."

"They are, dear. We just worry about you so much." Her mother had cut back in now. "We want you to be careful."

"I'll be careful from now on, Mom, I promise. I'm sorry…" Emma was sorry, to an extent; sorry she got caught.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's ok." Her father put his arm over her mother's shoulders. "I understand why you wanted to go out on your own; you're growing up so fast."

"Do you think…" Emma hesitated, unsure whether she should even ask. "Do you think I could ever go back to the market?"

"Of course, baby. We'll take you back down there tomorrow, if you want." Her mother was smiling at her now.

"I meant… I meant alone. You know, by myself." The smile was gone and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. She shouldn't have even asked.

"Absolutely not."

"But Mom…"

"Not without an escort."

"But Mom, that's not…"

"Enough, Emma!" More yelling. Emma scowled and refused to meet her mother's eyes, stubbornly staring at the floor instead. "You will stay within the castle walls unless accompanied by an escort. End of story."

Silence filled the room; it was a harsh silence that seemed to ring in Emma's ears after all of the yelling. She struggled to hold back her tears. They weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of anger, but even still, she refused to cry in front of anyone – even her parents – refused to even sniffle. When she knew her voice wouldn't crack and betray her, she spoke.

"May I be excused now?"

Her mother sighed and it was a sad sound; she reached forward and pulled Emma into her arms but it was a one-sided embrace. Emma didn't wrap her arms around her mother's body, didn't return the hug. She kept her arms glued to her sides, hands clenched into fists. Her mother squeezed just a little before releasing her.

"Yes, you're excused. Would you like some dinner before you go upstairs?"

"No, thank you."

And with that, Emma exited her father's study.

Hours later, Emma lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her hands tucked behind her head; she hadn't moved from the position since she got back from the talk with her parents. When she was just a small child, her parents had asked the Blue Fairy to cast a spell on her ceiling so that it replicated the sky outside; by doing so, they ensured that she would always be able to see outside even when she wasn't allowed to actually _be_ outside. Now, she stared up at the inky blackness of her ceiling. The sliver of the waning moon hung in one of the far corners of the room, its soft light allowing her to make out the hundreds of thousands of stars that stretched across the sky.

Her eyes drifted from star to star, picking out the constellations she knew so well – Orion, the hunter; Ursa Major, the great bear; Pegasus, the flying horse; Perseus, the hero; Aquila, the eagle; Leo, the lion; Sagittarius, the archer; Cygnus, the swan. Her mother had taught her all of the constellations, would lie out on the grass of the palace lawn and point them out to her night after night until she'd learned them all and where to find them by heart. She was probably only four or five years old at the time.

It was one of her fondest memories of her mother.

"_And see those stars right there?" Her mother was leaning back against an old tree stump, Emma tucked between her legs and leaning back against her body. Her mother's finger moved from light to light, outlining the shape in the heavens. "That's Cygnus, the swan."_

"_Hey!" She'd shouted out with the happiness only a child's innocence can have. "My name is Swan!"_

_Her mother had then gathered her into a hug. "That's right, my beautiful little swan – you are so precious and so loved that the gods named the stars after you."_

"_They did?"_

"_Yes, sweetheart, they did."_

"_Wow…"_

Childlike innocence, indeed. Too bad it doesn't last. At the tender age of only ten years old, Emma already felt like a cynic.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Emma was out of bed, shrugging on her dressing gown, and making her way silently down the hall to her parent's bedroom. Once she arrived there, she stopped; she had no clue why she'd even come down here. But then she heard it – their muffled voices through the door. It was so late… why were they even still awake? Quietly, she eased up to the wood and pressed her ear against it, trying to make out what her parents were saying.

"You know the plan, Snow. We have to stick to it."

"It's too risky…"

"Riskier than the alternative? I doubt it."

"We can't tell her."

"Well, we can't just let her grow up oblivious, either. Unless she knows the seriousness of the situation, she'll keep pushing the boundaries." Her father paused. "And we'll keep having incidents like this evening."

"I did what I had to…"

"Snow, you don't think maybe you were a little too harsh? She doesn't know, doesn't understand the danger yet. If we just tell her…"

"How could she even _begin_ to accept what's going on?" It went quiet, but Emma couldn't tell if they'd stopped talking or just lowered their voices. Then she heard her mother again. "I can't lose her, Charming. She means the world to me and I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe, even if it means she'll hate me for it."

Emma retreated from the door and padded silently down the hallway back to her room. Flopping down on her bed, she knew she would be awake for most of the night; her head just wouldn't stop going over everything that happened that day. She once again stared at the ceiling, feeling like a prisoner in her own home. She had no idea what her parents had been talking about, some plan and whatever danger was out there, but she did know one thing – that one day, she'd leave this place. If not, she was absolutely sure she'd go crazy. She'd do anything to get out; she'd run away, if that's what it took.

Emma bolted upright in her bed.

That's it – she'd run away! She'd run away and, far from her overbearing parents and any danger they thought was waiting for her, she'd finally be able to experience the world, live her own dreams. But it would have to be somewhere far away, somewhere no one would be able to recognize her. Anywhere even remotely close to the kingdom would be too risky; people would know her, tip off her parents as to her location. Yes, somewhere really far away…

She lay down, then, more content than she'd been in a while. The idea burned through her brain and she began to plan how she could make it work and that gave her hope; hope that she wouldn't be subject to all this hoity-toity royal nonsense, to the boring and dull future her parents had envisioned for her. Yes, she'd run away. Then she could watch the stars in the real sky, pointing them out from a flower-filled meadow or a windy beach or a snow-covered mountainside. Emma finally drifted off to sleep, a small smile on her face.

* * *

"Em, are you about done with the rags? I need to wipe these tables off."

"Yeah, here you go."

The Salty Dog Inn was a hole-in-the-wall sort of business; it didn't look very appealing from the outside, but inside it was warm, welcoming, and homey. Upon entering the front door, guests would come into a narrow room, a small lobby of sorts with a desk against the right wall where they could pay for a room. When they were younger, Ruby and Emma used to manage that part of the inn; however, as they got older, Ruby's father realized it would be more monetarily beneficial for the two of them to run the pub instead of August, and so they'd swapped responsibilities. After getting a room key from August, the guests had the choice to either go up the stairs to their left that led to the rooms that spread over the second and third floor or go through the wide doorway directly in front of them to the pub. The rooms upstairs were nothing special, but then, most of the people that came to Tortuga weren't exactly expecting refined accommodations to start with. The pub was a different story. It was a decent-sized room that spread over the remaining ground floor. Rustic beams hung on the ceiling, the floors were well-worn from years of traffic, long oak tables and benches spread out in rows throughout the room, and all this led to the polished wooden bar that ran along the entire back wall of the room.

Emma loved everything about it.

She tossed the rag across the bar to Ruby's waiting hand. It was getting close to opening time so they were doing some last-minute cleaning to get ready for the evening rush. Emma idly arranged the rows of mugs on the counter before stooping to pick up the club that had fallen out of its cubby; her thoughts drifted back to the last night she'd had to use it. They never had figured out what happened that night in Tortuga. The most they could deduce was that the attack was revenge-based; most likely bad blood between the crews of two different ships. Everyone else just happened to get caught in the crossfire. But such was the way in Tortuga. Always exciting, rarely dull.

"Ladies." A man greeted Emma as he walked through the door and up to the bar. "You look ravishing tonight, Emma." He was attractive, his wavy brown hair falling over his forehead; he was also someone she could never sleep with. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but give him a hard time.

"It's a little early to start drinking, isn't it? And alone, no less."

"Alas, that's the life of a lone wolf – alone more often than not. However, feel free to accompany me and spare me my loneliness any time." He leaned forward over the bar towards her, eyebrows raised cheekily. Ruby chose that moment to enter from the kitchen.

"Graham, stop harassing my friend or I'll have to hurt you."

"Ruby, darling!" His eyes shot to the brunette immediately. Emma knew that no matter how many times he threw cheesy pickup lines her way, he always had his eyes set on Ruby; she was the prize. "I've missed you, gorgeous – tell me you've missed me too." Her friend cocked an eyebrow at him.

"In your dreams, buddy."

"You wound me." Not to be brushed off so easily, Graham followed her to the end of the bar, smiling at her charmingly. "Ruby, when are you going to go on a date with me?"

"You're ridiculous. You know very well how many _dates_ we've gone on." Ruby emphasized the word dates and it was ironic because they'd never really been on a date; not an official one, at least. Their relationship was more of the casual hookup type. Most people would call it a one-night stand but their trysts had spanned over the course of the past few years.

Graham had come to Tortuga almost four years ago in an attempt to escape the law.

"_I'm a huntsman, you see. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it's not always animals. Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I'm on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out."_

From the first evening he'd shown up at the inn, he'd had eyes for Ruby; he'd spent the whole night flirting shamelessly with her until she finally relented, going back to his place for the night. From that point, they'd been… well, lovers was the only word that could really describe it. Despite their obvious mutual attraction, though, neither one of them had ever made any move to be exclusive. This meant their time together consisted of mainly sex and little else and that each of them was free to sleep with whoever else they wished. Emma knew for a fact that both Ruby and Graham abided by those rules; she could remember plenty of instances where Ruby had left early to sleep with a guest and plenty of nights where Graham had stumbled out of the bar with a random woman. After a couple years, Graham had moved to a small port a little south of Tortuga but still came into town occasionally for business; when he _was_ in town Emma didn't see much of Ruby.

"Yes, but it's been entirely too long…" He lowered his voice and Emma saw him seize Ruby's hand out of the corner of her eye. He began to whisper words to Ruby soothingly to which the brunette smiled in return, and Emma decided to move away from the bar to give them some privacy. They were adorable together, obviously infatuated, yet so stubborn. Emma was sure that Graham would willingly stay with only Ruby, but her friend had always been the one to set a limit on their relationship; she'd grown up as a barmaid in Tortuga – she didn't trust any man that walked through the door with her heart.

Emma could empathize with her on that. Tortuga was no place to fall in love.

The bar began to fill up as the evening wore on; men filed in, tired from a hard day's work on the docks or ships and eager for a drink to help them relax. It was a quiet evening though, as far as work was concerned. The majority of the men scattered around the bar were regulars and, therefore, didn't hassle Emma or Ruby too much. It was getting late, close to midnight, when she heard it.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, love."

Emma's hands stilled on the bottles of liquor she'd been handling; she hadn't heard his voice in nearly four months. After their initial meeting that first night, he'd only stayed in town until the next day before sailing out for god knows where, but he had stopped in before he'd left to tell her goodbye.

"_Hello, beautiful."_

_Wiping her hands on a towel, Emma turned to face the familiar voice. "__What was the point of me telling you my name if you're not going to use it?" _

"_It's for future reference, love; insurance, if you will. Might come in handy someday." Hook flashed a grin her way and she was absolutely sure that's how he managed to get all the women into his bed. He was too handsome, and the problem was that he knew it._

"_You're here awfully early, Hook; it's only three. We won't be open for a few more hours."_

"_I know. I decided to stop by on the chance that I could get some one-on-one time with you. You know… alone. Just the two of us." He looked at her suggestively, playing with her._

_Emma turned to the bar, busying herself with straightening items and cleaning; she was doing her best not to look at him, trying to play at disinterest. _"_Yeah, I know what one-on-one means and you're not getting any."_

"_You sure, love? You don't know what you're missing."_

"_That good, huh?"_

"_Never had a complaint."_

"_For some reason I doubt that." Actually, no she didn't. Emma was pretty sure Hook knew his way around a bed and a woman's body all too well._

_Hook, however, was not bothered. _"_You never know until you try it."_

"_And what makes you think you have anything I want to try?"_

"_You know you're curious." Did he ever stop smirking? "Resistance is a dangerous game, love, and most likely futile."_

"_Hardly. You'll sail out of here and forget all about this little tavern wench before too long." In the end, that's what always happened._

"_You're no common tavern wench. And anyways, how could I forget you?"_

_Looking at him from an objective, single, female point of view... "Because you'll have so many other women throwing themselves at you, eager to 'try what you have to offer,' as you put it."_

"_I won't forget you, love, especially when you have so many things that I want to try."_

"_God, do you ever stop?" Unable to hold it back any longer, the laugh she'd been holding back finally burst out._

"_I actually came down here to tell you that I'm leaving." Her eyes shot to his, laugh dying in her throat. His face was completely serious, all traces of their earlier, playful banter gone._

"_You're sailing out? So soon?" Emma kicked herself. She didn't care if he was leaving already – really, she didn't. Really._

"_Aye. Bit of bad news came my way this morning, something I need to take care of." He reached forward, playing with the tips of her hair like he had the night before. "We'll be pushing off within the hour."_

_Emma didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything._

"_Last night was a little more hectic than I imagined it would be… kind of disrupted the evening I had planned for us."_

_She still didn't know what to say._

"_I would've liked to have spent more time in your delightful company."_

_And she still didn't know what to say._

"_Especially since you're so eloquent." He smirked, teasing her silence, and she rolled her eyes._

"_Oh, shut up." Excellent comeback, Emma – what was she, five? He was still playing with her hair. "Be careful out there; it looks like it could storm any moment."_

"_The sea hasn't bested me yet, not to say she hasn't tried."_

_She grinned back at him. _"_You're probably just too stubborn."_

"_That I am; I never give up on a challenge." Emma wasn't sure if they were just talking about the sea anymore. "You be careful, too, love; keep that bow handy."_

_Hook backed away then, dropping his hand before walking for the exit. He paused, one hand on the door, and said something over his shoulder with his signature grin before walking out. The words seemed to float across the room to her in slow motion._

"_Think about me, Miss Swan." _

_As if she could forget him._

"Bloody hell – look what the storm blew in." Emma said it with a playful smirk on her face as she turned and crossed her arms, her eyes meeting Hook's blue ones. "I tell you, they'll let anyone in here nowadays."

"Ah, I missed you too, love."

He looked good. She'd forgotten how good.

"Emma, can you get me a…" Ruby trailed off when she noticed just who exactly was across the bar. Emma's eyes never left Hook's but she knew her friend well enough to know she was probably grinning from ear to ear; Ruby had pestered her insistently over the past four months about Hook, always finding ways to casually bring him up in their conversations.

"Sorry, lass, but Emma's done for the evening."

What?

"She has other business to attend to."

Emma's shocked silence was broken. "Is that so? And pray tell, what business will I be attending?"

"You have a date with me." She opened her mouth to shut him down right there but he interjected before she could even speak. "Relax, love – it'll just be you and me and a couple drinks. We can even stay here at the bar, if you'd like." The implication that their date could have occurred somewhere else was not lost on her. Ugh… pirates. He stood there, grinning at her casually; most likely, he was hoping for her to say they could go somewhere more private. She motioned to the tables, instead.

"Let's have a seat." Translation – _I'm not going to sleep with you_.

Hook led the way to an empty table and Emma settled down across from him. It was a surprisingly nice conversation, apart from the occasional innuendo thrown her way, and Emma found herself enjoying the evening. She asked how he'd been; he asked if she'd had any more reasons to shoot her bow. She asked where he'd been sailing the past few months; he asked whether she ever traveled outside Tortuga. She asked what made him want to live on the seas; he asked if she'd thought about him at all. It was a tame exchange for him, she was sure.

"I've been curious, love – where did you learn to shoot a bow? Not exactly a common weapon for a pirate."

"My parents weren't pirates and I didn't grow up in Tortuga; I didn't come here until I was twelve. My parents tried to teach me ways to defend myself when I was younger but archery was the only thing that stuck."

He nodded, thoughtful. "Yes, I'd say you have a knack for it. So how _does_ a young lass end up in Tortuga, of all places, as a barmaid? I'm sensing there are a lot of things that happened between point A and point B."

"I'd prefer not to talk about it."

And cue awkward silence.

Hook stared at her, the light-hearted look sliding off his face at her serious tone. There was something about him, Emma could feel it; something deeper, covered up by all of his bravado and flirting. A dark look flitted across his face and she knew he understood her reluctance to talk. Everyone had their demons and he obviously was haunted by those of his own past. Some things were just better left unsaid. Hook reached for his tankard and tipped it towards her slightly in a mock salute before taking a drink.

"A bow is only helpful from a distance; you really should learn the art of swordplay. Couldn't hurt, especially around these parts." It was an attempt to bring the conversation back to easier territory; Emma appreciated the effort. Without warning, Hook slammed his tankard onto the table. "I've got it – I'll teach you."

That was definitely not what she'd been expecting him to say.

"Umm, no… you really don't have to…"

"Nonsense – you're a delicate lass in need of an education. What kind of man would I be to allow you to remain so exposed to the dangers of the world without proper protection?"

She frowned at his absurd statements. "I'm hardly delicate."

"Maybe so – but you _are_ in desperate need of an instructor; you're just lucky that you get one that's easy to look at."

"Don't flatter yourself, Hook." His smug grin assured her that he could see right through her snub. "Why are you even offering to teach me? In case you haven't noticed, I live in Tortuga. Seventy-five percent of the men that live here know swordplay; the other twenty-five percent are just too old to remember or too young to have learned it yet." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "What's in it for you?"

"Being able to enjoy the view would be a start. And we can't forget the physical contact…"

"Good lord, would you be like this the whole time?"

"I'm only a man, love; I find it very hard to _not_ notice your various… charms."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite her better judgment. She'd grown up working in a bar frequented by pirates and rogues; these types of come-ons shouldn't make her react the way she was. The difference, she realized, was that most of the men that hit on her like Hook was didn't look like Hook did. She couldn't deny that he really was nice to look at, found it hard not to notice his 'charms.' The lack of a response from her confirmed it for him; she could see the look in his eyes – he knew he had her.

"So, shall we discuss the terms of payment?"

What?

The sudden turn in the conversation made her pause before she answered him, incredulous. "But you _offered_ to teach me!"

"I'm a pirate, love – I don't do anything for free." Of course not.

"Then it's your lucky day because I really don't think I'm in need of any instruct…"

"A kiss."

Emma stared at Hook, not even caring that he'd cut her off; she was searching, searching for that gleam that was always in his eyes during their bantering but she came up short. He was dead serious.

"That's my price. One kiss to be claimed at a date and time of my choosing."

"That's awfully forward of you, Hook."

Shoulders shrugging upwards, he ignored her statement. "You never know when the ability to wield a blade might come in handy." Emma was distinctly reminded of her father trying to convince her mother to allow her to learn how to protect herself with similar words. "Like I said, a long-distance kill is preferable, but you can't always depend on that. You need to know how to defend yourself if things get up close and personal."

Tortuga was a dangerous town. It was far outside the influences of the King and Queen, making it difficult to govern and control; this meant very few royal soldiers ever came through to check up on its activities. It was one of the reasons Emma had chosen this place to settle. Hook wasn't an idiot – Emma knew that he was well aware of the dangers often presented in port towns; the brawl from his prior visit was proof of that. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn't been around…

"Just one kiss?"

"Just one." He confirmed with a sly smile, the glint returning to his eyes. "Unless you beg for more."

"You wish…"

"The thought has crossed my mind on more than occasion."

Emma glared at him, eyes narrowed. She didn't have to learn from him; hell, she didn't have to learn swordplay in general. But if something _were_ to happen, if she was in close quarters with an attacker… well, there was no way her bow would do her any good unless she were to beat it over their head in which case it would probably break before doing her foe any real damage. But still…

"I could always get someone else; it doesn't have to be you."

Hook smiled and it was mostly genuine. Mostly.

"But you don't want it to be someone else." Voice low, he was calling her bluff. "Come on, Swan. I promise I don't bite. I won't even touch you – unless you ask me to, that is."

"Oh, so now you're a gentleman?"

"I'm always a gentleman."

"You're a pirate."

"That too."

* * *

**Who's excited for the new OUAT episode tonight?**

**Just an FYI – the beginning flashbacks will jump around a bit. In chapter one, Emma was twelve; here she was ten. I'll always put some kind of reference in there to help you figure out where exactly it fits in the timeline of everything. **

**Also, these first few chapters will be a little slower. I need some time to set up the characters and some backstories – and maybe throw in a few tidbits that you won't even know are important until later – before I let things take off. Right now it looks like things will heat up around chapter four.**

**Thanks to everyone for the awesome reactions to the first chapter!**


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**An Attack and A Parry**

"_The earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair."_

* * *

"Strike – that's good. Now what? Ah ok, you cut down and I block. And a spin to the left – excellent move – but I block again. What will you do now? Out of ideas? Alright, let's put you on the defensive."

Emma gripped the long sword in her hands, her arms trembling with the strength it took to hold the blade out against its opponent. The opposing blade slid down hers with a metallic scratching sound, slipping free and swinging around towards her unprotected right side. Thinking on her feet, Emma slid her right foot back and swung her sword, effectively stopping the blade with a harsh clang.

"Good job – and now we move again."

Her father continued his advance, using move after move, forcing her to think and react quickly. All of the moves he utilized were ones that he'd taught her over the past few years and Emma realized that he was testing her. An exam, of sorts, a way to demonstrate all that she'd learned. He would press forward, forcing her to parry his attack before dropping back and allowing her to move against him. It never lasted long, though – her father was much too good and she tired quickly. With a flick of his wrist, her sword was twisted from her fingers and fell a foot away.

"Let's take a break."

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Breathing heavily, Emma sat down and decided not to care about the seat of her trousers getting wet from the dewy grass. With her arms resting on her knees, Emma tried to catch her breath after the exertions. The Enchanted Forest was on the cusp of fall; all of the trees' leaves were a beautiful combination of oranges and golds and there was a crisp bite to the cool morning air. Despite the chill, she had worked up a sweat that made her shirt cling to her back and caused the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail to stick to her clammy skin. Emma was sure her mother would be horrified at the un-ladylikeness of it all.

"You're getting very good, sweetheart. You've improved a lot."

"Thanks, Dad. But I have to say, I still prefer archery."

"That's only because you don't have to practice at it as much." Which was true.

Emma had been roughly six and a half when her father abruptly decided he was going to toughen her up. According to him, he couldn't stand to see her grow up solely under her mother's coddling influence and turn out like too much of a girly-girl. So he began to teach her the art of swordplay, archery, and horseback riding.

After almost five years, Emma found that she still struggled with sword fighting the most; it just wasn't something she had a natural gift for and never had the desire to practice and improve. Archery, on the other hand, was what she truly enjoyed. It had taken her all of a couple hours to begin mastering the weapon and her parents had been astounded. Within six months, Emma was able to best even the highest-ranking soldier in the royal guard.

"_I think I know where she gets it." Her father looked at her mother's surprised face as Emma ran up to them. She'd just won a shooting match against Jefferson, one of the best archers in the royal guard. Emma could hardly contain her excitement as her mother's face slowly broke out into a proud smile._

"Oh, Emma, why are you all dirty? And why are you wearing those pants?" Emma's head swiveled around to see her mother descending the steps to the lawn.

"She can't very well duel in a skirt or dress, now, can she?" Her father's voice was teasing as he winked in Emma's direction.

"She _shouldn't_ be learning how to duel at all." Her mother's tone was disapproving.

"Well, then she can't very well ride horses in a skirt or dress, can she?"

"She shouldn't be riding any horses either!"

Emma smiled at the exchange between her parents. It had been a constant battle between the two of them as far back as she could remember. Her father wanted to raise her to be a strong and independent girl that could take care of herself, if need be; her mother wanted to raise her to be a prim and proper princess. The difference in their parenting styles often led to these kinds of discussions.

"All of this fighting, Charming, teaching her swordplay and archery… must you?" Her mother whispered, not realizing that Emma could still hear her just fine. Her father's hands rested on his wife's upper arms before pulling her into an embrace.

"She'll be fine, dear; she's so well protected here I doubt any kind of harm could ever befall her. Even still - you never know when it might come in handy." He pulled back and tipped her mother's face towards his, looking her in the eyes. "It came in handy for you to know these things, didn't it?"

"That was different."

Her parents stared at each other for a moment, some private and silent conversation passing between them, before her mother turned.

"Emma, it's almost time for your afternoon lessons. Why don't you go on inside and clean up a bit before you go?"

"Do I have to?" At the look on her mother's face, Emma turned to stare pleadingly at her father. Nope, there would be no backup from him. "Very well." It came out as a frustrated sigh. Before she left, though…

Emma turned back to the target and drew her bow. The nocking point rested against her cheekbone, her knuckle brushed the curve of her ear, the string hovered centimeters from the tip of her nose. Her back was taut with the tension of pulling the bow back and her left hand pressed firmly against the hand rest, holding everything steady. She stared down the shaft of the arrow, calmly exhaling the breath she always held when preparing to shoot. A breeze drifted by; a few leaves blew across her view and a lock of hair fluttered to land in her face, but her vision was fixated on the target.

Then, she released.

"Well done, darling. Excellent shot. Now go on and give Grumpy your bow and let's go inside."

Emma handed off the bow to the dwarf, satisfied, before turning to follow her parents. She missed the look on Grumpy's face as he stared across the field, looking at her shot.

The arrow was sunk deep in the target, directly in the bull's-eye.

* * *

Emma swung around, bringing her sword down to parry an imaginary attack from an imaginary foe.

Then she pushed the imaginary blade away and swung her sword across her body, making the imaginary person stumble back.

Then she leaped forward into a lunge, thrusting her sword between the imaginary ribs of the imaginary assailant.

Then she triumphantly watched the imaginary man fall to the ground as he gave a dramatic imaginary gasp with the last of his imaginary breath.

Clearly, Emma had too much of an imagination.

And she probably looked like an idiot.

Feeling self-conscious, Emma glanced around the clearing – nothing. She had found this little area while wandering around one day not long after she'd first arrived in Tortuga. It was roughly a quarter mile outside town and hidden by the thick forest that surrounded it on all sides; the perfect place to get some alone time. Or to practice her swordplay without everyone watching her.

She twirled the short sword in her hand before grasping it firmly again. It was a wicked little thing – roughly two feet long, its blade curved slightly before tapering to a sharp point and it had edges so sharp they gleamed. Hook had given it to her.

"_What the hell is that?" _

_Hook looked between Emma and the blade in his hand. "It's a short sword." As if that was the most obvious thing in the world._

"_It looks like a toothpick."_

"_Trust me, it stabs quite a bit deeper than a toothpick."_

"_I want a longer sword." She crossed her arms and tried to stare him down._

"_Too bad. My lessons, my rules – you get this one."_

"_But it's too tiny."_

"_It works just fine."_

"_Then why don't you use it?"_

"_Just take the damn thing, woman!"_

_It was smaller, much smaller, than the swords she'd grown up seeing. Her father had always used a long sword; it would stretch far in front him and, as she watched him practice, she'd always wondered how on earth anyone could ever hurt him. With a reach that long, he should've been able to chop anyone to bits before they could even get close. If she were to go up against her father with the short sword Hook was offering to her, he'd easily skewer her before she could even get close. _

_With an exaggerated huff, Emma pulled the sword from his hand. It was lighter than she expected, but then again she hadn't handled a sword since she was probably eleven or so._

"_Longer swords can be unwieldy, love; they're slower to move and require more effort. A short sword will suit you much better." Emma looked at him with doubt. "Trust me." At her continued look of uncertainty, he sighed. "Repeat after me, Swan: bigger does not mean better."_

"_Bigger does not mean better." Emma dutifully repeated the words but cocked an eyebrow at him when he paused and looked at her with a devilish grin._

"_But that doesn't mean that sometimes it isn't preferable."_

_She should have seen that coming._

"_Ok, first things first – you need to learn how to hold your sword." Hook stepped up beside her to inspect her grip on the sword. _

"_I know how to hold a sword." It came out sounding a little haughtier than she intended, but she held the sword out warily, gripping the hilt with both hands. Even still, she spared him a glance, trying to gauge his reaction._

"_You must have originally been taught with a long sword…" It was a quiet observation said more to himself than to her. "Yeah, that's not going to work with this baby. She's a little more delicate, doesn't like to be manhandled so much. Much like you, love." An eye roll was her only response._

"_One hand." He pushed her left arm away. "Now don't wrap your thumb so far down the hilt, move it up a little – right there. That will allow for better movement." The sword felt awkward and unsteady in her one hand after the two-handed hold she was used to. _

"_Swan, it's not going to bite you. Relax."_

_She tried and, from the amused look on his face, obviously failed. Hook took several steps back. "Alright then – stance."_

_Emma automatically obeyed the command; it reminded her strongly of her father when he was first teaching her. She slid her left foot back until her feet were a little wider than her hips, bent her knees slightly, and held the sword out in front of her. Hook looked pleased._

"_Good – very good, actually. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"_

"_Why don't you attack me and find out?" What the hell… where had that come from? She heard him chuckle then saw him move in her peripheral vision; he casually swaggered over to where he could face her directly, drawing his sword slowly. Emma's eyes fell on his blade._

"_Hey, why do you get to use a big sword?"_

"_It's a cutlass, love; not a long sword by any means. And I get a bigger sword because I wouldn't be caught dead with that scrawny little piece of steel." His laugh cut off her outraged retort. "I'm only joking, love. In all honesty, it's because I'm a man who likes bigger things." He spun his sword dramatically, showing off. "Do you like big things, Miss Swan?"_

_Her mouth dropped open at the blatant suggestion._

"_Gah… nevermind!"_

Hook was an excellent instructor. Apparently, the numerous battles and skirmishes that came with not only rising to captaincy of a ship but also maintaining said status had given him well-honed skills. He was dangerously meticulous and deadly accurate. And he pushed her. Emma would be exhausted during their practice duels but he would always demand more, like he knew she was capable of more than even she believed of herself. He unnerved her in more ways than one and she often thought how she would hate to have to cross swords with him in a real duel.

"_You're too distracted, Swan." The steel clashed and Hook's cutlass formed an X with her short sword. With a grim smile, he stepped forward, narrowing the space between their bodies and leaving her no room to pull her blade free. Emma grit her teeth in frustration; she was trying, damn it, but she knew her form was embarrassingly sloppy today. "You have to keep your eyes on the prize."_

_Before she could realize his intention, she felt something slip around her calf. He grinned wickedly at her surprised expression before pulling up. She struggled in vain to balance before falling to the ground, landing on her back; apparently, he had snagged her right leg with his hook to destabilize her. In an effort to gain some space so she could stand, Emma swung her sword over her body. Instead of forcing him back, though, he simply caught her blade as it swung by and pulled it towards his hook, effectively trapping the steel. With one of his characteristic smirks, he slowly began to slide down the length of her sword; the innuendo was clear. _

"_Normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back." He was crouched over her, swords pressed to the side. "But this is a pleasantly stimulating alternative for now."_

_Well, if she wasn't distracted before…_

"_A bit of advice, though – when I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it."_

_Oh, god._

"_Ready to give up, love?"_

Despite her initial contempt towards the smaller blade, Emma had grown to enjoy wielding the short sword much more than the long sword her father had tried to teach her with as a child. Its shorter blade meant less strain on her arms and shoulders as she fought, giving her greater stamina, and its lighter weight meant she could move faster, could move it faster. Under Hook's instruction, she learned of ways to take advantage of both her shorter stature and the shorter blade. Where she once thought that a longer sword would be a distinct advantage, now she wasn't quite so sure.

_Hook had obtained a long sword from god knows where; she knew it didn't belong to him or any of his crew. It was extended out, sharp point aimed at her chest._

"_Odds are, any opponent you're up against will be bigger than you – and most likely have a larger sword."_

"_Well isn't that comforting…"_

_He silenced her with a look. "But while they attempt to intimidate you with size and slice you in half with clumsy strokes, you'll be able to sneak in and catch them by surprise."_

"_And how, exactly, am I supposed to sneak in?"_

"_You're small – well, relatively small – and you're smart. All you have to do is find an opening and squeeze in to make your move. Let's practice, shall we?"_

_Without warning, the long sword whipped through the air, slicing at her body; Emma leaped back to prevent the sword from cutting a nice long gash in her stomach._

"_Bloody hell, Hook! A little warning, maybe?" But he wasn't playing with her; he was teaching._

"_You think someone's going to let you know when they're about to attack?" He swung the sword up and over, forcing her to roll to the right as the sword crashed to the ground where she'd been standing moments before. "Ambushing someone for a quick kill is a whole hell of a lot easier than drawing it out in a fight." He pulled the sword to the side before swinging it across his body towards her once more._

_That's when she noticed it._

_He was slower – maybe not much slower, but slower nonetheless. Emma dodged again, circling a couple steps more to her right. He had been right; the long, heavy blade was weighing him down and making his movements considerably less sharp than she was used to. She leaped back as he dropped the sword down for her again and used the time, miniscule though it was, to look for an opening and make a plan. The sword whistled through the air and she ducked, letting the blade pass harmlessly over her head._

_There._

_With the long sword still in motion after Hook's forceful swing, Emma saw the opening. Taking a quick step forward and still in a crouch, she pressed the point of her short sword to his stomach. She stared down the length of her blade, shocked at how instinctively she'd reacted to the opening he'd given her. Adrenaline was pumping through her body and she couldn't hear much except for the rush of blood in her head._

"_Well done, love."_

_She glanced up at him. He looked pleased._

Not all of their time together was focused on swordplay, though. It was inevitable for them to have downtime to talk, something that Emma both enjoyed and dreaded. Getting to know Hook was dangerous; she could feel herself naturally gravitate towards him, but it was extremely hard to wrap her mind around the concept of trusting him. And the more time they spent together and got to know each other, the more difficult it became.

They'd had their fair share of getting-to-know-each-other moments over their time together, but there were always things held back. They had a sort of unspoken agreement not to pry if information was not willingly supplied. He'd explained to her much about his young life and his early time aboard his ship but had deliberately left a large gap in the recent years. Emma was the exact opposite; she'd willingly explained much of her life from twelve years old and on but had obviously steered clear of her life pre-Tortuga.

Every once in a while, though, there were moments that gave her a deeper glimpse into the man that was Captain Hook.

_The clouds drifted lazily overhead, the sun was warm, and the slight breeze off the ocean had kept the day from growing too warm. Emma felt delightfully relaxed after the afternoon they'd spent sparring. She was lying on her back near the cliff's edge listening to the sound of the surf crashing on the rocks below while Hook sat a couple feet to her left, leaning against a boulder, with his eyes closed. Any normal person would assume him to be asleep but she knew better; Hook wasn't the type of person to let his guard down too readily around others._

_They were kindred spirits in that respect._

_Almost of their own accord, Emma's eyes drifted to his calm form. Pirate or not, he really was one of, if not the most, handsome man she'd ever met. Ruby frequently seconded that opinion, often following up with what was apparently one of her new favorite questions for Emma – why hadn't she slept with him yet? Emma's constant reply that she just wasn't interested was always rebuffed with a loud exclamation of 'bullshit!' In truth, she knew why she resisted Hook; she just wasn't willing to admit it yet. He, of course, made no attempt to hide his interest, but at the same time, never pushed farther than she was willing to humor him. It was a delicate balance._

_She continued to stare at him and her eyes were drawn to the splash of color on his forearm. It was a tattoo – the name Milah within a heart pierced by a dagger. She'd noticed it soon after meeting him, but when it never came up in their conversations, she'd figured it was one of the things he was unwilling to discuss._

"_Penny for your thoughts?"_

_The sudden break in the silence brought Emma back to reality with a start; she raised her eyes quickly, expecting to be caught looking at him but his eyes were still closed. She got the distinct feeling, though, that he knew she'd been staring. Brushing an errant strand of hair from her face, she returned her gaze to the clouds._

"_Not really thinking too much about anything…"_

"_I've come to know you pretty well, love, and you've been too quiet; there must be something on your mind."_

_He could read her so well. She shouldn't say it, though. Told herself not to ask. She just knew that the words would shift the comfortable dynamic they'd created for themselves, but the words came out unbidden._

"_Who's Milah?"_

_He was quiet for a moment and Emma thought he might just ignore her question altogether. "Someone I knew long ago." His voice came out as a soft whisper._

"_What happened to her?" Emma knew that she was straying into dangerous territory, that this conversation had moved far outside of their norm. Feeling slightly panicked, she tried to backtrack. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I understand."_

"_She died."_

_The undercurrent in Hook's voice made her heart feel like it would break, the heaviness of those two simple words like a weight on her chest. "I'm sorry… you must have cared for her very much." Hook opened his eyes then but didn't meet hers; he just stared out at the ocean._

"_I loved her."_

_There was so much more beneath his enigmatic personality than she had ever thought possible._

"_And what of your secrets, love?"_

_Emma knew what he was wanting. She had broken their understood agreement – she'd asked him something incredibly personal and now the scales were tipped in her favor. He wanted her to tell him something of equal weight and importance._

"_I ran away from home when I was twelve. That's how I ended up in Tortuga."_

"_Why?"_

"_I couldn't stay with my family. They had my entire life planned out for me… I couldn't accept that I wasn't in control of my own future."_

"_I can respect that." He paused. "You weren't afraid?"_

_Emma smiled grimly. "I was terrified." She remembered how scared she'd been those first few years, how she would experience crippling moments of panic or wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by a sweat-inducing fear. "But every time I thought about going back, I remembered a story I'd read when I was young about a girl that wanted to be a mermaid. People would ask her why she would want such a thing and she would tell them it was because she had no fear of the depths but a great fear of shallow living." She paused, remembering how helpless she'd felt growing up, and the next part came out in a low, pained voice. "You don't need water to feel like you're drowning."_

_Their two confessions were intimate and Emma could feel their relationship changing in the long silence that filled the space between them. After several moments, Emma felt the brush of fingers through her hair; Hook had moved from his place against the boulder to sit closer to her without her even noticing. She stared up at him as he slid his fingers slowly through her hair over and over. Never breaking eye contact, she reached out to touch her hand lightly to his bent leg. They stayed that way for quite some time, neither of them breaching the silence._

Emma glanced towards one wall of the trees, just able to make out the glittering ocean over the cliff's edge. If Hook's routine remained as it had in the past, he should have sailed in to Tortuga almost a month ago. It had become a predictable pattern; every three weeks or so he would come to Tortuga for a few days, instructing her in swordplay during the day and generally making a scene by harassing her in the bar at night. That's how it had been for almost a year and a half. Emma paused and counted the months off in her head, shocked at how the time had flown. She'd first met Hook when she was only a few days shy of turning twenty-seven; now she was twenty-eight and a half.

She'd changed a lot over that time. Her body had grown leaner from the swordplay, her muscles more developed. She was lighter on her feet and even Ruby had mentioned that she had a different sort of look about her now. Confident, the brunette had said – more dangerous.

Emma liked it.

She leaned against one of the tall oaks at the edge of the clearing; from this spot, she had an unobstructed view of the ocean. Her eyes gazed out over the water and she tried to convince herself that she was simply admiring the view and not searching the blue expanse for anything in particular.

_Hook had disarmed her, her blade now lying several feet from where they stood. She smiled at him and held her hands up in a show of surrender, watching as he relaxed his stance with a smug grin at what he thought was her admission of defeat – perfect. With a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a yell, Emma leaped towards him. Unprepared for the unusual attack, Hook dropped his sword and made a grab for her, stumbling with her added weight before falling to the ground._

_Emma landed mostly on top of him, her body crossing his torso. Hook's arm wrapped around her waist and he rolled in an attempt to pin her down beneath him, but Emma just rolled with him. She forced him onto his back and straddled his hips to pin him down. Their arms flailed for a second, each trying to gain the upper hand, before she managed to grab both of his forearms and slam them to the ground above his head._

"_Gotcha!" Her exclamation was triumphant. But then he became very still and she noticed a severe look in his eyes; there was something behind the striking blue that was distinctly darker, hungering. Then she realized the position they were in. Hook was sprawled out on his back, legs slightly askew, with his arms pinned above his head; Emma was straddling him, leaning forward over his body to hold his arms, with her face inches from his._

_Oh._

_His body was deadly still, eyes trained on hers. She didn't know what to do, didn't know whether to maintain this standoff and keep the contact or release his arms, leaving him free to do… other things. His head lifted from the ground towards hers, his gaze locked on her lips._

"_Emma…"_

_Hook didn't use her first name very often, usually opting for his pet names instead, so the sound of him saying it – in a hoarse whisper, no less – combined with his movement made her jump. She released his arms and sat up quickly but made not move to get off. Hook's hooded eyes burned into hers as his right hand wandered down to rest against her hip while his hook curled around the outside of her right thigh._

_When had she started breathing so heavily?_

_And why couldn't she stop looking at him?_

_And why the hell was she still sitting on him?_

_Hook shifted his legs almost imperceptibly, the movement causing friction at the place their bodies were so intimately touching. This was so very wrong… but it felt so very right. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own – she never told it to move – and he pulled down on her hips to press her more firmly against him. She couldn't quite stop the breathy gasp at the contact, a searing heat burning through her body._

"_Gods, Emma."_

_Hook all but growled it out, pulling himself into a seated position, his hand coming up to grasp around the back of her neck, drawing her face towards his. Panicked, Emma jerked her head back at the last second – how had everything escalated so god damned fast? Hook didn't release her but he stopped, his eyes flashing to hers. She wanted this – god, she wanted him to kiss her – but she couldn't do this. All the time they spent together was already doing a number on her resolve; she knew kissing him would send her over the edge and she couldn't risk that happening. Not with a pirate. Not with Hook._

_He must have been able to see the alarm she was experiencing because he relaxed. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he leaned forward to whisper to her. The breath that ghosted across her ear made a shiver skitter up her back._

"_You owe me a kiss, love." Damn, she'd almost forgotten about that. "What if I want it now?"_

_Emma swallowed hard. _

"_Do you?"_

_He dropped his hand to let his fingers run softly over the exposed skin on her upper arm; his hooked hand was curled around her back, keeping her straddling his lap. She felt hyper- sensitized to his touch. After a moment, he pulled back to catch her eyes._

"_No." A teasing look flashed across his face. "Not yet."_

That particularly interesting skirmish had been their last before he left almost two months ago.

Two months…

It was the longest he'd ever gone without coming to visit her. Visit Tortuga, her mind automatically corrected. Emma tried not to worry, tried not to let his continued absence bother her, but it wasn't easy, despite Ruby's continual attempts at distracting her.

The clearing was getting dark. Emma glanced up to the sky in surprise to realize that the late afternoon had shifted into twilight without her noticing and that she would be late for work if she didn't high-tail it back to the inn. In her hurry through town, she nearly ran into two women.

"Emma, you're in an awful big rush. Late for work?" The two women were dressed in garish outfits that only belonged in the brothels on the edge of town.

"I'm so sorry – yes, I didn't even realize how late it was."

"Did you see the ship in the harbor? Everyone's been talking about it." The second woman spoke now and Emma felt annoyed; she'd just said she was running late for work…

"Can't say I have. I'm sorry but I really need to…"

"What about the captain?" The lady ignored Emma and fanned herself dramatically. "I don't know if I've ever met someone so captivating and handsome; I do hope he visits our brothel while he's in town. If you see him, be sure to send him our way!"

Emma had a sneaking suspicion she knew who they were talking about but didn't want to get her hopes up in the event she was wrong. If it wasn't him, oh well; if it was… well, she was sure she'd see him that evening at the bar. Bidding the two women farewell, she continued towards the inn; at her rate, she would get there just in time for them to open. Ruby would most likely give her a hard time, having been responsible for setting everything up ahead of time, but Emma would find some way to make it up to her. Lost in thought, Emma didn't even notice the cloaked man creep from the shadows of the nearby alley and come up behind her.

At least, not until she felt the searing pain of a knife being jabbed to the hilt in her side.

She'd never felt pain like that. It was red-hot and white-cold all at the same time and she was sure that no lesson could've properly prepared her for that kind of hurt.

Emma gasped, swiftly turning around to face her attacker. His face was hidden in the shadows of his hood, but she could see the faint light reflecting on his teeth that were bared in a deadly smile. There was no time for confusion or hesitation. Without thinking, Emma drew her short sword and engaged her foe. No longer was she fighting an imaginary opponent or an instructive Hook – this was a very real threat that had already inflicted a very real injury – and a rush of adrenaline gave her strength to focus through the pain.

The man attempted to fight back, but she knocked the dagger from his hand. Not even pausing to think, she advanced. Emma knew she would never forget the feeling of that moment as long as she lived, couldn't even if she tried. She could feel the blade slide through his skin, felt it cleave through his organs and sever his spine on the other side. It was disturbing but also satisfying. This man had attacked her – he'd _hurt_ her – and she felt triumphant as her sword slid from his stomach and he collapsed to the ground.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Emma held the edge of her sword to his neck, trying to ignore the wetness she could feel soaking her top and running down her side.

"I'm just a messenger." He laughed but it was a thick gurgling sound due to the blood in his throat. Her blow had been a fatal one. "You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."

Emma felt her blood run cold.

Die?

Princess?

Someone wanted her dead, someone that knew who she was… but how? Why?

"Who sent you?" He stared at her grimly, silent. She shook him roughly, the pain causing him to make a strangled sound. "I said who sent you?"

"You have to die. You have to die so she can live."

"Tell me who!"

But her attacker died before he could answer, his eyes glazing over with death; Emma released her grip on his cloak, letting his body fall to the ground. She staggered to her feet, returning her trusty sword to its sheath. What the _hell_ was going on? Who would want her dead? And how had someone found her after all these years? With a deep breath, she looked at her wound. The knife had been small, but it had done its work well; the man had jabbed it into the soft part of her side directly beneath her ribs. She could see the ragged edges and watched the blood from the wound soak into her blouse, which now stuck to her skin. She would live, but she still needed help.

"_You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."_

Her stomach twisted anxiously. She should go to the inn, get Ruby and August to help, but then she found herself stumbling down the road towards the docks. The ladies had mentioned a captivating and handsome pirate captain… if he was there… if Hook was in town. She had no idea what he could do for her that Ruby or August couldn't, but she still found herself walking unsteadily in his direction.

It was there. His ship was there.

Her legs weren't cooperating in the least anymore; they seemed to wriggle like jello beneath her, like they couldn't support her weight. Blood dripped from between the fingers of the hand she had clamped against her wound as she stumbled down the dock and onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. A group of men on board jumped to their feet at her sudden arrival.

"I need to see Hook – the Captain – immediately." Emma wasn't sure how much longer she could stand here. Her fingers were beginning to tingle and go numb, the cold sensation slowly working its way through her hands to travel up her arms. She no longer felt so confident she'd live and had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the dagger than met the eye. If only she'd thought to grab it before she'd left…

A hulking crewmember leered at her. "Lass, if it's company you desire, we'll be more than happy to help." Over Hook's many trips to the bar to visit her, Emma had gotten the chance to meet most of his crew; however, the ability to go into towns when they made port was a privilege only granted to the more senior members of the crew. The others always had to remain and guard the ship. Therefore, Emma had not had the opportunity to meet these men that were in front of her now.

"Please, I need to speak with him now!"

Another man came to stand by the first one. "Anything that needs to be said to the cap'n goes through us first."

Angry, scared, and in pain, Emma drew her short sword and brandished it at the men in front of her. Immediately, several of them drew blades of their own.

"I don't have time for this!" She was yelling now. "Where is Hook?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Emma's eyes shot towards the familiar voice. The group of men jumped and separated to reveal their captain, angry from all the commotion. He stalked forward, glaring at his men before noticing her.

"Swan?"

"Hook…" The relief hit her at once and it felt like all her muscles stopped working. Her sword clattered to the deck and the hand that had been pressed to her wound fell to her side.

"What are you doing here?"

Her vision was starting to dim, the darkness at the edges of her sight creeping in.

"Captain, she's bleeding!"

Her body was almost completely numb; she couldn't even feel the sharp pain of the wound anymore.

"What the hell – Swan, what's going on? What happened?"

She dropped to the deck as her legs collapsed.

"Talk to me, love."

Hook's arm was around her shoulders and his hand was warm against her face but she couldn't speak.

"Emma…"

Then it was dark.

* * *

**So how about last week's episode? I'm not even ashamed to admit that I squealed like a little girl and that I've been wearing out the rewind button on my DVR watching it over and over.**

**As for this chapter – I've never wielded a sword a day in my life, but I like to consider myself well versed in the theory of sword fighting from watching so many movies. Yeah, that's a joke. Still, I hope I did it justice.**

**Thanks to everyone again for reading and commenting/favoriting/following! Have a good weekend!**


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**An Undertaking and A Choice**

"_I go to seek a great perhaps."_

* * *

Emma had never felt like such an idiot. She was standing on a raised platform in front of a tri-fold mirror dressed to the nines in an elaborate dress that she could barely breathe in. The seamstress scurried in circles around Emma, poking and prodding and pinning while her mother smiled on in the background.

The dress was beautiful. Floor length with delicate straps and tasteful beading on the shimmering silk, it was a sage green creation that everyone said would look wonderful in contrast with her fair skin and blonde hair. And of course, they were all correct. She was to wear this dress tomorrow evening.

Not only was tomorrow the night of the biggest, most extravagant ball the kingdoms had seen in quite some time, it was also her twelfth birthday. Her parents had planned the ball to celebrate her coming of age, so to speak; it was to be an introduction of her to the world. A whole evening dedicated solely to celebrating her.

Emma felt awkward already.

"Sweetheart, don't frown. It'll give you wrinkles."

She couldn't help the groan that escaped her. "Mom, why do I have to do this, again?"

"Because as of tomorrow you are officially a young lady and there's no better way to celebrate than with a ball. Oh, Emma, you're going to have the best time. You'll look like an absolute angel in that dress, every eye in the room will be on you. And there will plenty of handsome young princes to dance with."

Emma was less than thrilled. If there were anything worse than having to be paraded around in front of everyone in the kingdom, it would be her having to dance with all the princes in the realm in front of everyone in the kingdom. The uncomfortable embraces, the inevitable stepping on toes, the sweaty handgrips. Yes, true love in the making.

"Excuse me, milady." The seamstress' soft words drew her mother's gaze. "If you are satisfied with the gown…"

"Oh yes, Grace. Let's go ahead and get Emma out of it so you can work your magic." With the help of the two older women, Emma was able to shimmy her way out of the dress. "The dress truly is exquisite. I couldn't have dreamed up a more perfect and lovely piece."

The palace seamstress blushed under the praise. "Thank you, your majesty."

The rest of the day and most of the next passed in a blur of colors, music, fabrics, and instructions. Her mother busied herself with overseeing all of the last minute details of the ball, answering questions regarding things that Emma didn't even realize where even an issue. Lilies versus tulips; tapered candles versus votive candles; organza table coverings versus lace. All of the inquiries seemed so inconsequential. Did anyone truly care whether the tables were decorated with one larger centerpiece or balanced out with two smaller ones?

In the few moments that she wasn't preoccupied, Emma's mother shadowed her every move, following her from place to place and reminding her of simple things when they came to mind.

"Don't forget to curtsey when you're introduced to someone – remember to keep your eyes over his shoulder when he dances with you; don't look down at your feet – be sure to greet everyone in attendance; it would be simply horrible to forget someone and then they think us rude."

Before she knew it, she was being told to dress for the ball. Her mother deposited Emma in her room before departing for her own to get ready. The platform and tri-fold mirror had been moved into one of the corners and Grace stood meekly beside it, waiting to assist her.

Grace was a sweet girl, someone that Emma always wished she'd had more of a chance to get to know. She was dainty with light brown hair, a smattering of freckles, expressive eyes, and plump lips. She wasn't too much older than Emma, but the difference in their social standings prevented them from associating more than when the seamstress' services were needed. Grace was the daughter of one of the royal archers, Jefferson, and while his was an honorable profession, it was nowhere near a royal family.

"Are you ready, Princess?"

With a quiet sigh, Emma dropped her casual, everyday dress and stepped onto the platform. Grace pulled the elegant gown from its hanger and held it out for Emma to step into. With a hand on the girl's shoulder so as not to fall, Emma stepped into the dress and pulled the straps over her shoulder. As Grace moved behind her and began to lace up the back of the gown, Emma touched her fingers lightly to the delicate beading that adorned the front. Her mother was right; the dress really was exquisite. Then again, Grace never produced anything less than outstanding work.

"Princess, you look absolutely breathtaking."

She'd never been one to indulge and take pleasure from staring at herself in mirrors, but she couldn't help but admit that she looked pretty. Her hair had been styled in a simple chignon, the sweetheart neckline of the dress was perfect for showcasing the simple pendant that hung around her neck, and a coordinating bracelet decorated her wrist.

Emma felt the sudden very girly urge to twirl in a circle but resisted, opting to twist a few times so she could watch the dress flow back and forth instead.

"Oh, Emma!" She turned quickly at the sound of her mother's exclamation. She stood in the doorway in a deep purple one-shouldered gown and Emma was sure that she'd never seen her look more beautiful in her life. Her father hadn't stood a chance – one look at her and anyone would be a goner. Her mother came forward and embraced her lightly and Emma could tell how happy she was in that moment.

"Here's a little something just for you." She moved to stand behind her, their eyes connecting in the mirror. She was holding a delicate silver hairpin encrusted with small diamonds. "My mother gave me this when I attended my first real ball and now I want you to have it." Her mother tucked the pin gently into the side of Emma's chignon, smoothing down a few errant hairs.

Emma's father came to collect them, and before she knew it, they were in the ballroom and her mother was ushering her around, introducing her to a flurry of guests. There were so many people; faces blended together, their names forgotten as soon as she heard them.

"Emma, darling, this is Prince Phillip." This was the fourth prince she'd been introduced to so far this evening. He was handsome enough, but he had a nervous smile and slightly watery eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Phillip." Seeing her mother still watching her, Emma gave Phillip a tiny curtsey.

"The pleasure's all mine, Princess." He bowed and snagged her fingertips, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. A perfect little gentleman – his parents must have taught him well.

The evening dragged on and Emma wondered if her parents had managed to find a way to slow time for the evening. The only way to keep her sanity was to sneak out to the veranda every once in a while. With so many people talking and dancing, the ballroom felt stuffy, so the cooler outside air was a refreshing. She took a deep breath, leaning against the railing, and looked out over the gardens; her reprieve, however, was short lived.

"There you are!" Busted. "Come on inside, people can't meet you if you're hiding out here." Her mother dragged her back to the stuffy heat of the ballroom. "Oh, there's Prince Phillip – why don't you go dance with him, sweetheart."

"Can't I just visit with Cinderella? I haven't seen her in ages." She was immensely tired of dancing. Also, she believed her feet were completely ruined from Prince Adam stepping on them so much in an earlier waltz. It would be far more relaxing to sit and talk with one of the few friends she had that were in attendance.

"No, it's time for a dance. Go on."

"How about Prince Eric? Or Naveen?"

"No, I think Phillip will do just nicely. Now go." Her mother gave her a slight push towards the dance floor.

Emma had already danced with him three times, which was far more than any of the other princes. "Why do I have to dance with him again? There are plenty of other guests."

"Emma, you will stop this and go accept a dance with him this instance."

"But why?"

"Because he is your betrothed!"

All of the lights seemed glaringly bright and it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Betrothed? She couldn't breathe, just stared in horror at her mother. Emma finally understood why her mother had been insisting on so many dances with the young prince.

"But… but I don't want to marry him. I don't want to marry anyone!"

"Emma, you're only twelve; it's not like you'll be getting married tomorrow. The marriage isn't planned until your eighteenth birthday." Emma couldn't find the words to speak; her brain and her mouth refused to connect. "And you can't say you don't want to marry him, you barely know the boy. He is a wonderful young man whose parents are very excited at the prospect of your engagement. You'll be spending plenty of time together in the years to come and I'm sure the more you get to know him, the more you'll like him."

But Emma didn't want to get to know him. How could she grow to like – to love – someone knowing that the whole situation was forced, that it was the product of someone else's plans?

"After all your stories about how much you and Dad went through to be together, you would force me to marry someone I didn't love?"

"Love can take some time to develop, sweetheart."

"Yes, and it can also happen in an instant – or at least that's what you've told me."

Her mother refused to respond to the statement, just stared her down with a stern look. Emma felt the betrayal well up inside her and manifest itself in the form of anger.

"I can't take this! You plan everything for me; my whole future is like one big, strategic chess match and I don't even get a say in it. I don't want to grow up and be a queen, I don't want to run a kingdom, I don't want to marry Phillip or Eric or anyone else here, and I don't want to be your perfect little princess!"

The slap stung.

Emma brought her hand to her cheek, sure that it was flushed from both the slap and her prior anger. Her mother's face was twisted in a shocked expression; she'd never laid a hand on Emma in her life. The slap hadn't been hard, not even enough to turn Emma's head, but it was the emotion behind it that truly stung.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know… I can't believe…" Her mother took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself. "I'm so sorry, Emma. I know that you don't agree with many of the things your father and I have planned for you, but we know what's best. You'll thank us one day."

But Emma knew she wouldn't.

Her mother reached forward to pull her into an embrace, but Emma pulled away from her outstretched arms. Shaking her head and fighting the tears she could feel burning in her eyes, she ran down the hallway to her bedroom. Slamming the door, she threw herself onto the bed. She hated crying, hated the way it made her feel, but she couldn't stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Her mother's rise to the throne had been one full of adventure and romance. Snow had been constantly on the run from the Evil Queen, always trying to stay one step ahead, and had met Charming by chance in an attempted robbery that turned into one of the greatest tales of true love in the whole realm. That spontaneous, never planned, one-day-to-the-next kind of life was something Emma wanted to experience. The feeling of never knowing what's going to happen next, of being able to fall in love with someone you'd never expect.

But everything was out of her control here in the castle. Her parents wouldn't listen, didn't care about her hopes and dreams. They'd been living in times of relative peace for so long that the thrill for adventure had long left their hearts, which also prevented them from seeing that yearning that burned in Emma's. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she spied her travel bag stuffed in the corner against her dresser.

_Run away…_

The words floated around the room as if the walls themselves whispered them to her, as if they knew of the sorrow and discontent she felt nearly every day within its confines. The stars above her head twinkled, calling to her to see them with her own eyes instead of through an enchanted ceiling.

Could she really do it?

_Would_ she do it?

Thus far, her life had consisted of people making her decisions for her; the biggest choice she'd ever had to make was which pony she would like to take for herself from the city's breeder. This was so much bigger than that.

But if she were caught… if her parents ended up finding her…

No, she wouldn't get caught. She'd had a plan for years of how to get away and an idea of where she could go.

_Run away…_

The words lit a fire deep in her chest and she jumped from the bed, moving with purpose. She ripped the dress off and pulled her hair free from its updo, the diamond hairpin falling to the floor. She started to reach for it but then turned to the closet and dressed in her most comfortable pair of trousers and shirt instead. She'd have no need for elegant hairpins where she was going.

Grabbing her bag, she began to stuff it full of outfits that would be helpful on her journey and with a sharp movement, broke her piggy bank and stuffed the money she'd saved over the past few years into the bag. Moving hurriedly, she grabbed her bow and arrows from the corner and a piece of parchment before padding quietly down the hall to her parents' bedroom. There, she told them goodbye.

_Dearest Mother and Father,_

_By the time you read this, I will be gone. I'm sorry because I know how much this will hurt all of us, but it is something I need to do._

_I remember the stories you both would tell me before I went to sleep at night – tales full of adventure and romance. I fell in love with those stories and have spent my entire life wishing for one of my own. I can't bear the thought of never getting the opportunity. I need to be free to live my own life; free to make my own mistakes and experience my own victories; free to fall in love with whomever I choose._

_I would ask you not to look for me, but I know that you will. You will not find me, but please know that I will be safe. You both raised me with the knowledge of how to take care of myself and now I go to put it to use._

_I love you both so much and I hope you can find a way to forgive me someday. Know that wherever I am, I will always think of you both. Mother – look up at the stars and know that, wherever I may be, I do the same and think of you. Father – shoot your bow and know that I carry mine with me, a piece of you always by my side to protect me._

_Love always and forever,_

_Emma_

Tears stung in her eyes. This was so hard, but her words in the letter were true – if she stayed here she would surely drown. She would wither away until there was nothing left of her except the bitter shell of a woman that used to be full of hopes and dreams. Emma folded and sealed the letter, pressing a kiss to the note before laying it on her parents' chaise lounge. They would not find it until the following morning, by which time she would be long gone.

Emma grabbed her small pack and left the castle. Most everyone in the palace was attending the party and those who weren't were so relaxed and at ease that it was easy for her to slip out. She made her way to the docks; the plan was to barter her way onto a trading ship and then go as far as they could take her. Her heart felt heavy with sadness but she didn't pause to give a last look at the palace she'd grown up in, was born and raised in.

She never looked back.

* * *

When Emma came to, the first thing she thought was that she was never drinking again. Ever. This was by far the worst hangover that she'd ever experienced. Then she remembered that she hadn't had anything to drink the night before.

And that she'd been stabbed.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly that the blood rush to her head caused her vision to go black for a few seconds. When it cleared, she looked at her surroundings. She was in a bed in some type of cabin; there was an armoire, a large wooden desk strewn with maps at the other end of the room, shelves filled with books, a small sofa, and floor to ceiling windows along the opposite wall that showed a clear blue sky. Looking down at her body, Emma noticed that she was still wearing the same grungy clothes from the day before, the side of her shirt stiff with the dried blood. Curious, she lifted up her blouse to inspect the wound and found that it had been bandaged.

Where the hell was she? She closed her eyes, trying to place the events of the prior night in order but couldn't focus beyond the slight panic she felt at not knowing what was going on in the here and now. With a frustrated groan, she flopped back down onto the bed.

"Most women don't make such unpleasant noises while in my bed."

Emma hadn't even heard the door open, but there he stood. Hook.

"Your bed?"

"Aye."

Breathe, Emma… long, deep breaths.

She glanced again to the sunlight streaming through the windows; it had been night when she arrived here. "How long was I out?"

"About fourteen hours now." He moved to lean against the desk. "I didn't want to wake you."

After sleeping for fourteen hours, her head shouldn't be pounding the way it was anymore. But then again, she hadn't just been sleeping. She could distinctly remember passing out from the strange effects of the knife. Not exactly a formula for a restful night's sleep, no matter how comfortable Hook's bed might be. Speaking of beds…

"So if I'm in your bed, then I guess I'm on…"

"The Jolly Roger." He finished the hesitant sentence for her with a smile that quickly faded. When she'd felt movement earlier, she'd just attributed it to her headache. Now that she was aware of where she was, she noticed the slight swaying motion again and recognized it for what it was – a telltale sign of being on the water. "How are you feeling?"

"Aside from a headache, surprisingly well." The prior evening all blurred together in her mind, a dizzying rush of color. "Can you fill me in as to how I came to be in your bed?"

He chuckled, probably thinking along the same lines as her – that her being in his bed was the least important issue at hand. "How about you fill me in as to how you came to be aboard my ship covered in blood?"

How exactly _had_ that happened? Focus… she sat up in the bed again, resting her back against the wall behind her. Hook pulled the chair from behind the desk, dragging it across the room to sit beside her.

"I was in the clearing; I'd been practicing yesterday afternoon." She left out that she'd also been thinking about him – a lot. "I realized that it was getting late and I needed to get to work, so I grabbed my stuff and was almost to the inn when this man came up behind me. I have no idea where he came from or who he was; he was wearing a black cloak, though, so he obviously didn't want to be seen. I wasn't even paying attention when I felt him stab me."

Emma had been staring down at her hands clasped in her lap. When she ventured a look at him, she was surprised by the outright fury she could see in the tense clenching of his jaw, the stormy expression in his eyes. He refused to look at her, though.

"Lay down, I need to change your bandages." She did as she was told and he reached forward to push her blouse up to her ribcage, exposing the wound. Using his hook, he sliced through the current wrappings, casually throwing them to the floor. Emma glanced down at the injury; it was a small hole, but there was an unsettling black color that spread out from the wound with her veins.

"Did he escape after stabbing you?"

She looked away from the wound and back to Hook. He had pulled a new set of wraps from somewhere and was slowly unrolling it. When he reached forward to start bandaging, his hand brushed against the bare skin of her stomach, causing it to twitch faintly in response. Under different circumstances, the position they were in – her shirt hiked up and him gently touching her bare skin – might have led to a very different outcome.

"No, I killed him… I stabbed him." His eyes shot to hers for a second before returning to the work at hand. He'd slid his hook under her, the flat part of the appendage pressing into her and forcing her to arch her back; with his other hand, he began to loop the wrappings tightly around her body. He was surprisingly adept at the task for having only one hand.

"I remember how _angry _I felt." She recalled the flash of rage she'd experienced as the knife had slid into her body. "I was mad at him for hurting me and mad at myself that I hadn't been paying enough attention to stop him sooner. I didn't even think; I just responded."

He was staring at her with an unreadable expression, but if she had to guess, it was a mixture of pride and concern. "That's what you're supposed to do, love. What I've been trying to teach you." His eyes lowered, returning to the task at hand. "Could it have been a random attack?"

"_You are meant to die, Princess – and die, you shall."_

"No."

"And what makes you so sure?"

Emma hesitated. To tell him any part of what made her sure that she'd been intentionally targeted would be to tell him about her past. Could she do that? Could she trust him with the truth of her heritage? Only Ruby knew of her past and, even then, she'd only told her because it had been necessary; that situation hadn't exactly been planned. No, she couldn't tell him… not yet.

"I just know."

He gave her a sharp look but didn't press her. "You said you were close to the inn… what made you come all the way to the docks?" He wanted to know why she'd dragged herself halfway across town when her friends were much closer.

"Some women were talking, they said that there was a handsome pirate captain in town and I had a feeling it was you they were talking about." His anger was quickly replaced by one of his trademark smirks. "Oh no, don't even look at me like that – those were their words not mine so don't go getting any ideas." She had to give him credit as he at least attempted to stifle the grin.

"Still doesn't explain why you came to me instead of your friends, love."

Emma frowned. She couldn't explain that because she'd wondered the same thing at the time. "I honestly don't know why. I tried to tell myself to go to the inn, but I just kept walking towards the docks. It was like my brain was disconnected from my body or something."

"Hmm…" It was a noncommittal sound that Emma couldn't read. "Here, tie this." He'd finished changing her bandages and now gave her the end of the wrapping to tie off. Once finished, she sat up and smoothed her shirt back down, sparing a glance once more for her dirty clothes. She needed a shower and a change of clothes desperately – she felt disgusting – but all her clothes were back at the inn… the inn!

"Oh my god, Ruby's probably freaking out… and August too. I have to go; I need to let them know everything's ok." Emma threw the covers off her legs and stood up, but the room swayed and her legs felt like they'd collapse as they had the night before. Hook put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Damn legs… I can't even walk properly."

"Yes, well, most ladies do go weak at the knees after spending a night in my bed."

"Oh please…" She brushed his hand away and tried to blow him off. "I have to go talk to them. They're probably worried sick."

"That's going to be a little difficult, love."

She didn't like the look on his face. "And why's that?"

"We've left Tortuga."

"We… left? As in we're not in the port anymore?"

He shook his head at her confused questions. "We left last night after you fainted."

"Damn it, Hook! You know that's considered kidnapping, right? You can't just take people without their permission. Do you have any idea how worried everyone will be about me? Ruby is going to _kill_ you."

"In case you don't remember, love, a man tried to kill you. Not just a random attack on a helpless lass – he was after _you_, tried to kill _you_. Obviously, someone in Tortuga wanted you dead bad enough to resort to desperate measures and I, for one, wasn't willing to sit around and wait for them to return and finish the job when they discovered you had survived." He took a deep breath. They'd had somber conversations in the past, but Emma had never heard him speak so intensely to her before, with such obvious emotion. "I sent a note to your friend before we left explaining what little I knew of what happened."

Emma was relieved that at least Ruby would have some knowledge of what happened instead of thinking that she'd just been abducted or killed. Something about what Hook said, though, pressed at the back of Emma's mind, bothering her. Why was stabbing her considered desperate measures? That seemed a fairly routine way of assassinating someone. Unless…

"Why did the wound look the way it did, with the dark lines coming from it?" Emma could feel her stomach drop at the pained look on his face. "Hook?"

"It was cursed. The blade he used to stab you was filled with dark magic."

The words were like a punch to her stomach and she had to put a hand against the cabin wall to steady herself. Dark magic was a terrible thing; she could remember her parents telling her about it as a child, about the horrible things it could do, the horrible ways it could corrupt a person's mind. "What's going on, then? How am I alive?"

"By all intents and purposes you should be dead; the magic should have killed you within an hour. Thankfully, I had something on hand that stalled the curse. It didn't cure it by any means, just delayed the inevitable."

"So I'll still die?"

Hook looked far calmer than she felt. If only she could maintain that level of poise. "If the wound goes untreated, yes." Outstanding.

"How long do I have?"

"A few days, a week at the very most." It was a staggering thought, to know you were only days from death. The expression on his face was unreadable and she exhaled heavily, the breath coming out shaky from the weight of the revelation.

"You need help, love – more help than I can give." Thoughts raced through Emma's mind. The Blue Fairy was the only person she could think of that might be able to cure her, but that would involve returning home. "I know of someone that _can_ help, though, but it would take quite a bit of effort to get to where she lives. And it would be dangerous – extremely dangerous."

"Well I'd prefer to live, given the choice." Apparently, finding out how close she was to death had given her a new sarcastic streak.

His lips twitched at her comment. "Yes, I'd prefer you live also." He paused. "She lives in Neverland."

As a child, Emma had heard numerous tales about the wonders of Neverland. It was a land where imagination ran wild, where adventures and dangers waited in mermaid-filled lagoons and Indian-inhabited plains, where one would never grow old. But that's all she'd believed they were – stories. Never in her life had she imagined they could possibly be real.

"A place that's only exists in bedtime stories."

"I assure you, it's very real. A whole colony of pixies resides in Neverland. Combined, their magic would be enough to heal the curse; the trick is convincing them to help. Lucky for you, they owe me a favor." His eyebrow rose suggestively. "I'm open to suggestions on a form of repayment, but if you need ideas I'd be more than happy to supply a few."

Emma cocked an eyebrow, remembering the terms of her last payment. She was already indebted to Hook for him saving her life thus far; to accept his offer now would make her debt nearly insurmountable. She'd owe him for years to come. But then again, she couldn't repay anything if she was dead.

She leaned against the cabin wall and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. How was this even possible? A mysterious man that knew her hidden identity – a cursed blade meant to end her life – a legendary land that held pixies powerful enough to cure dark magic – a pirate that had apparently been to Neverland before.

What were the odds?

Emma had a million questions but figured they could all wait until later. "It sounds ridiculous and unbelievable… but it also sounds like it's our only option."

"I must warn you, though, love." He turned to her then, cautiously snatching her gaze as if he really would prefer not to tell her. "I might not always be the charming pirate you're used to. Neverland does strange things to a person's mind."

Emma unconsciously licked her lips.

"How so?"

Did she really _want_ to know?

"It can make a man feel completely carefree. Makes him feel like he could take on the world or jump off the highest cliff and fly. Like he could reach up and take the stars down from the sky or outrun the wind or move a mountain with his bare hands."

He stepped towards her, their bodies only inches apart, forcing her to mold her back to the wall. He lifted his hand and ran it through her hair before curling it around the back of her neck, his thumb running across her jawbone. He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers; his eyes were closed and his voice was low and husky as he whispered to her. "Makes him feel like he could spend a thousand lifetimes with a woman and never tire of her or want for anything more than the feeling of her skin against his… her lips on his body… her joined with him."

His words were like sin. Emma had closed her eyes at some point as he spoke – she didn't know when – and she found herself fighting to keep her breathing steady. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and there was a spreading warmth that was building in her stomach.

"But it can also make a man feel helpless. Part of Neverland's power is that it causes you to forget everything you know. To know that you're at the mercy of the magic in the land… it can make you angry, and anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark."

They were quiet and unmoving; she had no wish to break the spell his words had cast over them, but she forced the words out.

"I'll take my chances."

He laughed, if you could even call it that; it was a hoarse sound that most definitely did not stem from joy.

"I wouldn't have you see me dark like that, Emma."

"I trust you." Even if you don't always trust yourself, she added to herself.

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. They were a less startling blue than when she first met him; now they were more like the gray-blue of a storm on the ocean. His hand shifted, giving his thumb access to glide across her bottom lip, and his eyes dropped to track its progress.

"I think I'd like to collect on your prior debt now."

The kiss.

His words were soft, much softer than the impossibly loud sound of Emma's heart beating that she was sure he could hear in the silence that surrounded them following his statement.

"A deal's a deal."

His lips turned up in a small smile. "You're much more than just a simple deal, love."

Then he dipped his head and kissed her and it was everything she'd ever imagined it would be. His lips were firm, demanding, and she felt she would be burned with the heat of it. His mouth moved against hers, parting her lips. He was intoxicating. Their tongues intermingled, causing the scorching heat to travel through her entire body, and she distractedly thought that _this_ was a kiss.

Her hands slid up his arms of their own accord. They ghosted over his shoulders to wrap around the back of his neck, her fingers sliding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck, caressing him. At her touch, he moaned and it vibrated through her mouth. He grabbed her chin and turned her head, creating a better angle, a deeper angle, to kiss her; at the same time, his hooked hand settled at her waist and he leaned into her, pressing her against the wall. His hips shifted against hers and the sudden increase in intensity left her breathless. Their kisses were hot and strong and wanting, and she could feel her long-standing resistance floating away like ashes on the wind, burnt and discarded.

If his words earlier were sin, what did that make his kisses? Because surely no man should be able to kiss as well as Hook did. The things he could do with his mouth caused her mind to spin, her stomach to flutter, and her knees to weaken.

Her hands ceased their caress, one grabbing a fistful of his hair, the other dropping to clutch at the front of his vest. He made another noise as his hand slid down her side and along to her back, pushing her forward and making her arch her body into him. He abandoned her lips, nipping at her earlobe before trailing hot kisses down the side of her neck. Emma's head fell back against the wall and gasped as he sucked at a sensitive spot near her collarbone. Fingers looped in his belt, she pulled his hips tightly against hers.

She couldn't get enough… couldn't feel enough.

That's why she was surprised when Hook was the one to pull away. He leaned against her, unwilling – or maybe unable – to move, his face buried in the crook of her neck; his breathing was heavy with what she assumed to be a combination of his desire and the effort it was taking for him to stop. With one last rough and jagged breath, he pulled back, pressing his lips to her forehead before stepping away and turning his back to her. His words were soft, only barely reaching her ears.

"You're sure?"

Oh yeah… Neverland. She'd almost forgotten what they had even been talking about. To be completely honest, it hadn't seemed important once he'd kissed her; especially since his kisses had easily been the most arousing and mind-blowing ones she'd ever experienced.

"Yes."

A soft sigh. He reached for her hand.

"Then let's go."

* * *

**Hook makes me swoon. Seriously. It's kind of sad.**

**I know that Snow seems a little harsh – I was as shocked as you because that slap came out of nowhere – but you have to understand where she's coming from. A mother's love is absolute and Snow is one protective momma. She knows things that Emma doesn't and has said before that she'll do anything to protect her – even if her actions will push her only daughter away. She has her reasons so try not to be too hard on her, mmk?**

**Thanks again for the great reviews – you all seriously make my day!**


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I also don't own Mr. Gibbs. He belongs with Pirates of the Caribbean over here in our world but has somehow managed to wander into this story.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**A New Home and A Remedy**

"_So come with me to a place where dreams are born and time is never planned."_

* * *

The merchant trading ship was nothing fancy, didn't even come close to the sophisticated vessels of the royal navy she'd been on in the past. Those trips with her parents had transpired on gleaming, flawless ships with uniformed officers that always carried out their duties with a respectful smile. It didn't take Emma long to realize that conditions like that didn't occur very often outside of the royal influence.

Gruff sailors, toughened by years of a life at sea, moved about the ship. The craft was quite a bit smaller than the royal navy vessels and since it was a trading ship, it was always packed to near overflowing with goods and merchandise. The ship and its accommodations were filthy, to say the least, but Emma found that it didn't really matter; material luxuries and refinements were now a thing of the past. She knew better than to believe that starting this new life would be anything but challenging.

She'd managed to barter her way onto the ship nearly a month ago.

"_Sir, please; I can pay you."_

_The captain of the ship – Emma could see the weather-worn words Alice May printed on the front – had turned her initial request to board his ship down, but predictably stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her at the mention of money. His hand rubbed his jaw as he took a couple steps toward her, surveying her curiously, before stopping and holding out his hand. Emma was already prepared. _

_She dropped a few pieces of gold into his waiting palm and his was relieved to see his eyes widen in response. That was a good sign. Dressed in her casual travelling trousers, shirt, and cloak, she clearly hadn't looked like a person that would be in possession of that kind of money. But then again, she'd been banking on people making that assumption; the less everyone else knew, the better._

"_Don't think you'll get a free ride just 'cause you got some gold, girl. If you wanna come, you're gonna have to work." The captain had recovered from his initial shock at the gold in his hand._

_Emma spared a glance for the ship. She'd never had to do a day's worth of hard labor in her life, the most work being when she practiced swordplay or horseback riding with her father. But she also knew that she needed to get out of the kingdom. She'd only been gone for one hour tops but time was of the essence._

"_I'll work as hard as anyone else." _

_The captain let out a bark of laughter and grinned at her and she was surprised to find that it wasn't the leering, unpleasant sort of smile she'd been expecting. Still laughing, he pulled a floppy hat from one of his many pockets and reached forward to push her hood back. Emma felt a moment of panic flood through her at the thought of being recognized when she was on the cusp of escaping, but if he recognized her, he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply placed the droopy hat on her head before clapping her on the shoulder._

"_Well then welcome aboard, sailor."_

Her time aboard the trading vessel had flown by. In the beginning, the activities had worn her out. She would stumble around completing her chores, body aching from the prior day's exertions, before collapsing into her bunk at night, exhausted. She adapted quickly, though. Day by day, her muscles ached less and she found she could do more work. It was never easy, by any means, but Emma felt a strange sort of satisfaction from the labor that she'd never felt before. She knew she couldn't stay on board forever, though. Eventually, she'd need to settle somewhere.

"_Trying to escape the law, lass?" Emma remained silent and stared at the captain. "There're a few places people who don't wanna be found can go, but if you're asking my personal opinion I'd have to say Tortuga."_

"_Can you take me there?"_

_He nodded. "Aye, but only if you finish swabbing those decks before sundown." Emma ran off to do her work with a smile, the captain's chuckle following behind her._

It had only been a couple days since that conversation and now here she was.

"You got a place to stay?" A brusque sailor had come to stand beside her at the head of the gangway. His name was Mr. Gibbs and, during her time on the ship, he'd somewhat taken her under his wing, despite his initial insistence of what bad luck it was to have a woman on board. After warming up to her, he'd taken it upon himself to show her the easiest ways to climb the riggings, how to tie the various knots they used, and how to navigate in the open sea.

"No." She stared out at what would was to become her new home. The royal palace versus a pirate town… could two places be more different? "I'll see if someone will give me shelter for the night. Then tomorrow I'll start looking for a permanent place and maybe some work." They were silent as Emma worked up the courage to step off the ship.

"Take care of yourself, girl."

"You too." Emma looked up at the bearded man with a small smile. "Goodbye, Mr. Gibbs."

She made her way down to the docks and stood there for a moment, watching the Alice May sail off with a small feeling of nostalgia. She'd only been on board for a short while, but she had grown to enjoy the raucous sailors' company; they had been her first real experience outside of her sheltered palace upbringing. But she didn't have long to stand there, because at that moment the skies opened up and released a severe downpour. With a squeal, she pulled her hood up over her head and ran into town.

It was beyond frustrating to find out that the people of Tortuga were not very trusting of strangers or visitors. She sprinted from door to door, requesting stay for the night, but was repeatedly turned away with distrustful looks. What were they even worried about? She was just a girl! It was a while later, when she was hunkered down in an alley trying to stay out of the rain, that Emma noticed a sign swinging wildly in the storm.

The Salty Dog Inn.

Without a second thought, she ran from the alley and crashed through the inn's door. The sound of men yelling and laughing met her ears and the instant warmth from a fire seeped into her bones, chasing away the chill she'd had from the rain and wind.

"Hi, there! You want a room?" The words came almost immediately after she'd entered. Emma attempted to wring some of the water from her hair and clothes as she turned to look in the direction of the voice. It had come from a small girl sitting behind a desk next to a slightly older boy. She was young, most likely the same age as Emma, with dark brown wavy hair and was giving Emma a curious smile.

"I… um… yes. I'd like a room."

"You're not from around here." It was so apparent that the girl didn't even phrase it as a question.

"No, I'm not." Emma looked through the doorway to a warmly-lit pub before walking over the desk. "I just got into town." Apparently not one to mess around, the boy told her the daily rates and Emma felt her heart drop; she didn't have enough.

"Oh… I'm afraid I don't have that much."

"Best be on your way then."

At the harsh words, the brunette gave the boy a contemptuous frown. "August, look at her – she's new in town, she's soaked, _and_ she doesn't have any money. She can't stay on the streets!"

"I don't want to kick her out either but she doesn't have enough money. You know Dad's rules… what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to give her a room, idiot!" Emma stared at the pair as they argued.

"Well I can't just _give_ her one!" They glared at each other for a moment before the boy threw his hands up in surrender and shoved his chair back. "Fine! I swear, if you weren't my sister…" The boy moved from behind the desk with the girl following close behind him, a victorious smirk on her face. "You, come with us."

Emma followed the siblings upstairs and to a room at the end of a long hallway. The boy knocked once before opening the door to reveal a man seated at a desk counting money. He glanced up once at their entry and then did a double take at the sight of Emma.

"What's going on?" Obviously he was the type of man that knew when something was up.

"This girl…" The brunette motioned to Emma. "She needs a place to stay but she doesn't have enough money…"

The man held up his hand to cut her off. "No money, no room – those are the rules. You know that."

"But Dad, she's just moved here!" The girl ran over to the man and grabbed at his sleeve desperately. Emma had always found it easier to play the sweet and innocent daughter act to her father rather than her mother; fathers just seemed to fall for it more easily. Clearly this girl had the same idea. The man looked from his daughter to Emma.

"Not many people move to Tortuga. Who are you, girl? Where'd you come from?"

This was what she'd been waiting for, the inevitable questions of who was she, where'd she come from, why was she alone, and where were her parents. She was willing to give people her name – Tortuga was so far outside the kingdom that the residents wouldn't even know who the king and queen were, much less the name of the princess – but she would have to leave out the rest.

"My name's Emma Swan and it doesn't matter where I'm from. I can never go back."

The trio stared at her for a second before the girl turned to her father, tugging on his sleeve.

"See, Dad, she needs a place to stay. Can she stay? Please?"

"We're near full and she doesn't have enough money… I have a business to run."

"What if she worked here?" It was the boy – August – that spoke now in her defense. "Just the other day you were saying how we needed help." If this worked, she'd have to remember to kiss him later – on the cheek, of course.

"Hmm… that is true…" The man trailed off, thinking, while Emma waited on bated breath. "Alright, girl, here's my offer. You get free lodging here for as long as you work for me; you'll start at the desk with my daughter and then we'll see where it goes from there. I'll also throw in a few shillings a week if you turn out to be helpful. If it turns out you're useless, you're back out on the streets. Agreed?"

"Agreed." Emma felt like she could fly. What luck! Not only did she have a place to stay, she also had work. He nodded sharply and began to count his money again before pausing to look up at them.

"Well what are you three standing around for? Get downstairs and get to work." The three of them stampeded back downstairs before pausing in the front room.

"I have to get back to the bar. Ruby, you'll be okay here in the front?" The girl nodded eagerly. "And you'll show her what to do?" Another nod.

As August made his way into the bar, Emma turned to her new friend, grasping her hands firmly. "Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without you." The girl just waved the thanks off with a smile.

"It's nothing – now let's get to work. I have so much to show you!"

* * *

"So how exactly does one get to Neverland?"

Emma stood on the upper deck of the Jolly Roger next to Hook as his crewmembers scurried around on the deck below preparing the ship's sails and riggings for the journey. It was apparent that they'd made this trip before and knew what the journey there entailed, what dangers they might face. Watching them, she still wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous. An exhilarating thrill went through her at the thought of the magical land, but Hook's reluctant acceptance of Neverland as their next heading had given her pause. Against her better judgment, though, she found she trusted him.

"_Here." She instinctively caught the tossed item and found it to be one of his shirts. "It'll be big on you but at least it's clean."_

"_Thank you." Her own shirt was impossibly dirty, had a knife-sized slit in the side, and sported a rather bloodstain. Not exactly the most appealing attire. Emma stared at Hook, waiting for him to leave._

"_Well go on then – put it on."_

_She gave him a hard look. "With you watching? I think not."_

"_No need to be shy…" He trailed off teasingly. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."_

_She paused at his words, the knowledge that she'd woken up in his cabin earlier with her wound already bandaged floating through her mind. She'd been unconscious… it would have only been too easy for him to…_

"_Hook, tell me you didn't?"_

"_What are you talking about?" His face was trained in an innocent expression but his voice was anything but._

"_You know very well what I'm talking about. You can't just take advantage of an unconscious person like that. It's indecent!"_

"_I didn't take advantage of anyone." There was a mischievous lilt to his voice._

"_You just said it wouldn't be anything you haven't seen before!"_

"_Who said I was talking about you, love?"_

_Her mouth shut with an audible snap._

"_As far as I'm aware, your body should be similar to those of other women." She could feel her cheeks flush as he gave her one of his smug smirks. She'd taken the bait he'd thrown out hook, line, and sinker. "However, I can't say that with complete surety so I'm more than willing to check just to make sure."_

"_Out, Hook!"_

_Instead of listening to her, though, he crossed the cabin to stand directly in front of her. Emma did her best to glare at him, tried to show him she was frustrated, but the self-satisfied grin he was giving her was wearing her down and she couldn't help the slight lift she felt at the corners of her mouth. He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against her still-warm cheeks._

"_That blush looks good on you, love. I'll have to aim for that more often." Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left her alone in the cabin. She waited for a moment, debating on whether to trust him to be a gentleman and let her change in privacy, before she ripped her dirty shirt over her head and pulled on his black one._

_Emma didn't know what to make of Hook anymore. _

_They'd started their – relationship? – with playful banter and teasing innuendos that she was able to resist relatively easy. Sure, his words affected her, they would affect any normal girl with hormones and a pulse, but she'd convinced herself that it would be best to avoid crossing that line with him. Ruby had taught her early on not to trust the pirates that came through town with anything more than a casual fling and Emma had lived by her friend's words, never giving anything more than her body to a man. _

_But she wasn't sure she could keep body and mind separate when it came to Hook. _

_He was charming and sexy and knew exactly how to draw her in, and she could feel herself fall for him in a way that made her nervous. That's why she resisted him, resisted his advances. For almost two years she had vehemently denied her attraction to him. Ruby had never believed her and Emma had begun to wonder who exactly she was trying to convince – her friend or herself. _

_Over the years, it had become a sort of stalemate between the two of them, almost their own norm. They both knew that he wanted her, he made that plainly obvious, and they both knew that she was interested but hesitant to cross that line. So he'd waited, only going so far with his inferences, never pushing her too far. She'd expected him to give up after some time – he was a man, after all – but he'd stuck around. She didn't know what he did when he wasn't in Tortuga, but when he was in town his focus was on her and that kind of dedication made resisting him hard. _

_Really hard._

_But things were different between them now. _

_The change had started the day she'd finally asked about his tattoo, about the mysterious Milah. Sharing something personal as they did had shifted them, pushing them into new and different territory. And then there had been their last sparring match… he'd tried to play it off, saying that it was because she owed him, but they both knew that when he moved to kiss her that day it'd had nothing to do with collecting payment. And then there was the kiss… well, kisses. He'd cashed in on that payment, but instead of just one kiss, it had spiraled well out of her control. The fact that she'd furthered the situation only proved that she couldn't keep a level head around him._

_And so now here they were. All of those singular moments had combined to change their dynamic, bringing them to this new place where the line she'd kept between them was blurred and starting to fade. She'd continue to resist him, she knew she would. But it wasn't because she didn't trust him. _

_It was that she didn't trust herself enough to let go with him._

Hook closed his compass with a sharp snap and turned the wheel slightly. She tried not to admire him too much as she watched him navigate the ship, but it was hard not to when it was obvious how much he belonged at sea, at the helm of a ship. For the past two years, all of their time spent together had been on land either practicing in the clearing or in the bar. Here, he was in his element.

The wind blew strongly, tousling his hair and fluttering his shirt, and he stood there, hand holding a compass and hook on the wheel, with a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face that was unlike anything she'd ever seen during his time on land. He was a pirate, through and through, and she couldn't imagine him anywhere else than where he was right then.

"There are several ways..." He barked out an order to a man below and adjusted the ship's direction again. "My first time travelling to Neverland was using a sail made with the feathers from a Pegasus' wings. Bet you didn't know that the magic instilled in the flying horses also transfers to their feathers?" She hadn't known that, having only seen a Pegasus in person once. "The feathers' magic allowed us to fly here."

"Fly? You flew a _ship_?"

"Technically my brother did, but yes, we flew there. You know – second star the right and straight on 'til morning." The words from the childhood fairytale came back to her. "You never forget your first."

She shot him a look but he just winked in response. Emma was secretly relieved at his return to his usual innuendos. Their conversation in his cabin a couple hours before had been a serious one, not to mention their little… well, she wasn't quite sure what to call that yet. Either way, it was nice to see him acting normally again. She wasn't sure if she would've been able to handle delving into a discussion about what happened and was grateful he seemed willing to leave it be.

For now, at least.

Because she knew he wouldn't drop the issue forever.

_"You're much more than just a simple deal, love."_

Emma could feel the heat rising to her cheeks just thinking about it. The feel of his lips on hers, coaxing them open as he'd plundered her mouth. The heat of his body as it had pressed and rubbed against hers. The sound of his ragged breath as he'd forced himself to pull away. The knowledge that she hadn't wanted it to stop – wasn't sure if she would've even been _able_ to stop.

Her gaze slid to the side and she found him watching her, smirking. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Emma rolled her eyes and turned away, deciding that Hook's smirk should be classified as a deadly weapon and outlawed – a weapon of mass destruction to the hearts and minds of women everywhere. She heard him chuckle softly.

"The second time I travelled to Neverland was using a magic bean, which is also what we'll be using today. It's a bit of a rough ride as opposed to flying but its magic will steer us true."

Anticipating her interest, he was already holding the bean up for her to observe when she faced him. He dropped it into her hand for her to look at. The bean was certainly not like any other legume she'd seen in her life; larger and slightly translucent, it felt unnaturally warm in her hand.

"How on earth did you get, not one, but _two_ magic beans? I thought they'd all been destroyed years ago in the giant wars."

"I've done quite a bit more adventuring than you have, love. Plus, I have a crewmember with the ability to procure hard-to-find objects – Smee. He's quite useful, really." Emma looked down to the deck below and spotted Smee. The pirate that always stumbled about wearing the sloppy, red hat seemed exactly the opposite of useful; apparently, his other talents made him invaluable.

"Well, I suppose here's as good a spot as any." Hook leaned forward to yell to his men. "Brace yourselves, lads – next stop, Neverland!" All of the men cheered uproariously in response, seemingly excited for another adventure. "Hold tight, love – this is going to get messy."

She glanced around at the sparse upper deck. "Hold on to what?"

"Anything."

Emma watched as he threw the magic bean far out in the water. Instantly, the sky above them darkened and it was as if a vacuum had opened up beneath the water. A giant hole appeared, all of the water rushing down into it, creating a huge maelstrom. The water under the Jolly Roger was pulled forward, causing the ship to jerk, and she reached out to grasp the railing of the deck to avoid falling.

Hook was back at the wheel. He strained to hold it steady against the pull of the water, trying to keep the ship from going forward too quickly. The men below secured themselves by grabbing onto any fixed object they could find; Emma even noticed a few flee beneath the deck to a safer, more sheltered environment and she wondered what would happen if a person where to fall overboard between the two realms.

It wasn't long before Hook abandoned the helm, the maelstrom having taken complete control of the structure, and came to stand beside where she gripped the railing. The water drew the ship along, circling it along the outer edge of the massive whirlpool.

"Ready?"

Emma didn't even have time to respond as they tipped towards the edge of the portal. The ship angled sharply downward and she felt her foot slide out from beneath her on the slippery deck. Her shin scraped painfully against the lowest railing, but she had a firm grip on the top beam and managed to drag herself back up. Suddenly, Hook moved behind her, placing his hand and hook on either side of hers and pressing his body against her back to steady her against the railing. He was protecting her. There wasn't time to process his actions, though, because it was then that the ship went over the edge completely.

Then she was falling.

Actually, the whole ship was falling, but Emma found she didn't care about anything except the weightless sensation in her stomach at the sudden loss of gravity. The men were yelling – some in fear, some in enjoyment – and a whirlwind of lights swirled around the ship. When they began to make her feel dizzy, she closed her eyes and focused on the solid feeling of Hook against her back, the movement of him lowering his face into the crook of her neck.

The trip through the portal couldn't have taken more than a few seconds, but it felt like the longest seconds of Emma's life. Once they were safely on the other side and she was able to think coherently again, she was absolutely sure she never wanted to travel by way of magic bean again. Altogether, it was a most unpleasant experience.

"Alright there, love?"

"Can we please _never_ do that again?" She felt Hook press a soft kiss to her shoulder and smile against her skin; her whole body was shaking from the fall and he could probably feel it.

"I don't know; I quite enjoy the feeling of you trembling in my arms." She remained quiet, refusing to respond. "What if our only way home is via magic bean?"

"It's not, is it?" She turned to face him, his arms still secured on either side of her body. "Please tell me there's another way home!"

He laughed and they both ignored how the men below started cheering again, this time all in enjoyment. "There's another way home."

Emma stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Are you just saying that because it's what I want to hear?" She was fairly good at knowing when someone was lying to her but she'd always found it very hard to read Hook.

"I promise, love, there's another way we'll be going home. I'm fresh out of beans." They remained there for a moment longer than necessary – Emma pressed against the railing and Hook leaning towards her with both his arms caging her in – before he retreated, making his way down to the lower deck. Emma couldn't help but wonder if this would be a regular occurrence with him now, invading her personal space.

Hook busied himself on deck with his crew, checking the rigging and sails for damage and righting overturned equipment and supplies. It looked like the ship and the whole crew had made the portal jump in one piece; she didn't know them too terribly well but was still relieved they hadn't lost anyone.

Taking a moment, she examined her surroundings. It had been late afternoon when they'd left the Enchanted Forest but the sky above her was the intense dark right before dawn. Apparently, time flowed differently here in Neverland. The dark ocean spread out in all directions and Emma could just make out the outline of an island in the distance.

"So what's our plan of action, Captain?"

The query caught her attention; she'd been wondering the same thing. Nothing motivated like a little dark magic coursing through your blood trying to kill you.

"The lass is gravely injured." Emma saw several members of the crew glance up at her. "Magic is the only thing that can cure her ailment so our plan is to seek out the pixies."

"But Cap'n, don't they already know we're here?"

"Undoubtedly so, but we don't have the time to waste waiting for them to come to us. It would save us a lot of trouble, though, if that damned Tinkerbell would show up." Hook looked out towards the island she'd spotted earlier. It was an odd sort of name – she assumed it was a name – and sounded silly, a tad too girly, coming from Hook. "Prepare to set sail for Pixie Hollow."

All of a sudden, Emma felt faint. Since she'd awakened on the Jolly Roger, her day had been nothing but one burst of action after another; now, it seemed everything was catching up to her. The slight swaying of the ship felt much worse than she knew it really was and she could feel the nausea creep up on her. At the same time, she felt a dull ache in her side and pressed her hand to her cursed wound. When she blinked, she was surprised to find herself laid out on the deck with no clue as to how she got there, and when she made a move to stand up, she realized she couldn't move at all, had no control over her muscles anymore.

"Captain!"

Emma couldn't even turn her head to look at Hook as he rushed up the steps to her, dropping to his knees beside her body. She didn't know which of his crew had called attention to her but she'd have to find out and thank him later.

"Swan, what's wrong?"

She was on board a ship full of pirates, she was wounded by a knife that had been filled with dark magic, she'd collapsed yet again, and she was searching for pixies in a land most people didn't even know existed.

What _wasn't_ wrong?

"I ca…" Damn, that stab wound was really smarting now. "I can't move."

Hook reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up to look at the wound. Emma could just move her eyes enough to see how the dark lines had spread far past the wound; they'd progressed beyond the bandages and some strayed dangerously in the direction of her heart.

"We need to get you to the pixies now. This is spreading a lot faster than I thought it would."

"Perfect…" Emma tried for a valiant chuckle but it came out weak. She expected him to make some kind of joke to ease the seriousness of the situation so his next words were unexpected.

"Ah, looks like we have company. Perfect timing."

Hook wore a relieved smile and pointed off into the distance. At first, she couldn't see anything; then she noticed a small light coming towards the ship, growing larger by the second. The ball of light reached the vessel, flying in a circle around it, before coming towards Hook, moving quickly around his head until it stopped to hover directly in front of his face.

"Hello, Tink."

The light grew brighter, so bright that Emma had to squint, before it faded to reveal a petite woman.

"Hello, Killian. I've missed you."

_That _was Tinkerbell?

She was a dainty little thing, barely coming up to Hook's chin, and the playful grin on her face gave Emma the impression that she could be fairly wild. Her curly blonde hair was twisted up into a messy ponytail and she wore a short green dress that didn't leave much to the imagination.

"As well you should." He was joking with her, but his playful demeanor gradually changed to something more genuine. "It's been a while."

It happened fast – Tinkerbell launched herself forward, covering the space between them, and embraced Hook in a hug. Tinkerbell was laughing gaily as Hook hugged her and Emma could see where she got her name; her laugh sounded like tiny bells. Over Hook's shoulder, Tinkerbell's eyes found Emma lying on the deck and she pulled out of the embrace.

"And who's this?"

He turned and met her eyes for a moment. "This is Emma, she's the reason I'm here."

"Oh?"

"She was stabbed almost two days ago by a blade cursed with dark magic. I used the pixie dust you'd given me, but it wasn't enough to heal her; all it did was slow the spreading." Pixie dust was a great deal more powerful than fairy dust and significantly rarer. For him to have some on hand and choose to use it on her was… well, it was more than Emma would've expected.

Tinkerbell nodded, fingertip daintily touching her chin. "Yes, it would take a great deal more magic than my pixie dust contains to stop a curse. The only one that could stop dark magic would be…"

"Clarion. I know." Based on the look on his face, that wasn't a good thing.

"She'll never agree to it."

"She might." Hook glanced at Emma again, quickly looking back to the pixie. "She doesn't have much time left, Tink. Will you take her?"

"Killian…" Tinkerbell sounded doubtful.

"Just try? Remember, you owe me." She wondered what exactly Tinkerbell owed him for, but the pixie just sighed and gave Hook an exasperated look similar to the kind Emma frequently gave him. He must get those a lot.

"Only for you." Then she was walking over to Emma and kneeling next to her. "Hello, Emma. Just try to relax." As if she had a choice – she couldn't move.

Tinkerbell opened a small bottle and immediately the area was filled with a comforting fragrance. It was a mixture of scents, each of which brought a vision to mind – the smoke from burning logs in the inn's fireplace as she worked, her mother's faint rose-scented perfume as she tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, the briny ocean air as she stood on the beach with her toes buried in the sand, the hint of leather and rum as she crossed swords with Hook in the clearing.

"What is that?" Emma couldn't help but ask.

"Pixie dust – it's to help you fly. It smells good, doesn't it?" The pixie smiled. "A person needs to think of happy thoughts to fly so the pixie dust will always smell like the things that make you happiest. It smells different to every person."

Tapping the bottle lightly, Tinkerbell sprinkled a faint coating of the dust over Emma's body. The scents from some of her happiest memories were overpowering, making it impossible to think of anything but those moments. Without warning, Emma realized she was now hovering several inches above the ground; the only thing keeping her from floating away was Tinkerbell's hand pressed firmly against her stomach.

"I want her back in one piece, Tink." She couldn't turn her head to look at Hook, but she heard the warning beneath the words.

"Don't worry, Killian, she's in good hands."

And with that, they were off. A light emanated brightly from the pixie's body and when it faded she was once again a miniature version of herself. Her wings fluttered as she guided them away from the Jolly Roger and through the Neverland sky; Emma could just make out the sea and then the woods beneath her as they moved inland. It wasn't long before they began to descend, Tinkerbell pressing firmly into her stomach to force her down.

"I guess I didn't need to give you so much dust." She grunted with the strain of pushing Emma down, her wings fluttering wildly. "You're happy thoughts are a little strong."

Surprisingly, Emma felt a wave of disappointment flood through her as grew closer to the ground. Unlike travelling by magic bean, flying had been exhilarating, and she could distinctly remember how exciting the thought had been as a child. Her body hovered a couple inches before it dropped to the ground with a thump, her disappointment cutting through the last of her happy thoughts, ending her ability to fly. Tinkerbell stood beside her, human-sized once more.

"Emma, I'm going to have to ask Clarion to help. She's our queen and the only one powerful enough to heal you."

"_Will_ she help me?"

"That's the catch." Emma didn't like the sound of that. "She's not very fond of Killian, not after his last time here. His actions caused something of a rift between the pixies and himself. It will take some convincing for Clarion to agree, but I have an idea."

"And that would be…?"

"Our queen loves an honorable heart."

"Come forward, Tinkerbell." With a reassuring smile, the pixie left her range of sight and Emma was left staring up at the sky, only able to listen to their discussion.

"Is it true that Captain Hook and his band of miscreants have returned to Neverland once more?"

"Yes, your majesty." Emma could hear a rumble of discontent go through the crowd and Tinkerbell hurriedly continued. "However, this time he has come to Neverland on peaceable terms."

"Peaceable terms… So you are saying he has finally abandoned his quest for revenge, then?"

Revenge?

"I believe so."

There was a pause and Emma wished she could actually see the people – pixies, rather – that held her fate in their hands.

"So then what does the captain desire this time?"

"He came here specifically to seek our help. This woman is under his care and has been wounded with dark magic. He would ask our help in saving her life."

"That is a noble voyage, indeed." The two pixies made Hook sound so damn heroic that Emma was glad he wasn't around to hear, knowing it would only inflate his ego. After a moment's hesitation, the queen continued. "Very well, I will do what I can."

Emma released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She could barely hear the quiet footsteps coming towards her; then they stopped and Emma was staring up at Queen Clarion. She had a nice face, pleasant enough that it made you want to be her comrade but also stern enough that you trusted her to be a wise leader. Clarion smiled down at her.

"Hello, Emma." She couldn't remember anyone ever mentioning her name during the conversation and wondered how the queen knew it. "Don't fret. All will be better soon." The pixie queen's hand passed over Emma's face and she felt herself fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

**This story is consuming my life. Honestly. When I'm not writing, I'm thinking about it. I've even taken to carrying a composition notebook with me where I write down ideas, notes, and lines I want to remember and include in later chapters. It's crazy, but in a good way. I'm not complaining!**

**On another note - this isn't my favorite chapter. I worked on it quite a bit and am still not happy with it, but it's that in between stuff that needs to happen so I guess it is what it is.**

**By the way, have I ever mentioned how much I love all of you? Because I do! Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, favoriting, and/or following!**


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I used some direct quotes from Barrie's Peter Pan to describe some of the things the crew encounters in Neverland. I certainly didn't write the original Peter Pan, so yeah – not mine.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**A Promotion and A Few Encounters**

"_This is where the spiral catches you – this is where it starts."_

* * *

Emma should be getting married today.

At least, she would've been had she not run away. Today was her eighteenth birthday, something only Ruby and August knew but would no doubt still find a way to celebrate about later that night. It was strange to think she'd been gone for six years already and really did consider the rough port town of Tortuga her home now.

"You have to keep up with the washing or you'll run out of tankards before the night's even halfway done."

Emma turned to give August an exasperated look. Tonight was her and Ruby's first night working the bar instead of the reception area and August was on hand to show them the ropes, but the crowd of thirsty men was beginning to overwhelm Emma.

The switch had been brought up a couple weeks beforehand when one of the patrons had made the comment that Ruby and Emma would be easier on the eyes over a tankard of ale than August. It didn't take long for the suggestion to spread to all of the patrons, each time met with a grunt of approval, and finally reach the owner's ears. With some deliberation, he'd finally agreed that the trade made sense; after all, more men were likely to show up and spend money if Ruby and Emma were serving them drinks.

"How am I supposed to keep serving drinks, though, if I'm washing dishes?" The juggle of duties behind the bar was far more demanding than August had ever made it seem and she wondered how he'd managed by himself all these years.

"Most of the time you get some lulls and can clean up, but sometimes you just have to tell 'em to hold on. If they really want a drink, they'll wait."

Ruby hurried into the bar and unloaded a tray full of tankards into the wash bin Emma had just managed to empty with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry Emma, you can pay me back tomorrow."

When deciding the workload, Emma and Ruby had decided to trade out on floor versus bar duty. They'd originally figured Ruby, with her long legs and stunning physique, would do better on the floor, but changed their mind because Emma couldn't exactly be considered plain. She had matured over the years to have long blonde hair that fell in waves down her back, hazel eyes that Ruby said could stop a man in his tracks, a light skin tone that some said made her look angelic when combined with her blonde hair, and a slender body with just a few slight curves that made her far from unappealing.

The owner believed that, with Emma and Ruby working the bar, profit was almost guaranteed. Men would be constantly calling them over to order more drinks just to get a chance to talk – or maybe even a touch – and more drinks meant more money. Emma had asked Ruby once how her father felt about her being objectified, but she'd had only laughed it off and reminded her that this was Tortuga and that was just the way things were.

"Yeah, you just wait." Emma gave the brunette a mock glare. "I've heard that payback's a bitch."

"Ruby, fill up some more tankards and get back out there; Emma, stop washing and go take some orders."

Emma was glad that August would be helping them these first couple weeks, but she was also excited for the time when they would be able to manage the bar on their own without him. August tended to be all business; Emma and Ruby tended to mix business _and_ fun.

It was late, close to three in the morning, when the last of the patrons left and Emma flopped down onto one of the benches. She was completely exhausted, this being the first time she'd been able to sit down in hours, but still felt that her first evening as a barmaid far outweighed a possible first evening as a wife. Barmaid trumped an arranged marriage in her book.

After cleaning off one last table, Ruby came to sit beside her.

"So what do you think – bar or reception?"

Emma could remember all the long hours of sitting in the small lobby. The only thing that had made it even remotely enjoyable was the fun that the two girls would get into that usually had nothing to do with work and more to do with flirting and teasing the patrons entering or exiting the tavern.

"Bar, hands down."

August chose that moment to sidle up to them, one arm held mysteriously behind his back. "You both did really well tonight. The switch was obviously a good idea; I don't remember the last time we had such a lucrative night."

"Probably the night before you started working the bar." August's pleased expression turned into a frown at Ruby's teasing jab but he didn't respond. Originally, there had been another lady working the bar, but when she decided to run off with one of the patrons, August had been forced to step in to fill the vacancy. Even after all these years, the patrons still gave him a hard time about him being less than appealing when compared to the previous barmaid.

"I made this for you two. A congratulations, of sorts, on your promotion."

August held out what looked like a normal piece of wood but on closer inspection was more. It was roughly three feet long, shaved down from a larger log to a manageable size so that either Emma or Ruby could handle it, and had a small handgrip carved into the smaller, tapered end.

"Um… thanks?" The brunette took the piece of wood hesitantly.

"It's a club." Emma looked at him blankly and, judging by his exasperated expression, Ruby was doing the same thing. "Things get kind of rough in here sometimes and I just want you two to have something to defend yourselves with if things start to get out of hand." August rubbed the back of his neck and refused to meet their eyes, clearly embarrassed. Emma had hardly ever seen displays of fondness between the two siblings – they had more disputes than anything else – so the show of affection was somewhat awkward for Ruby and August.

"So let me get this straight…" Ruby had an excited gleam in her eyes that Emma knew could only mean trouble. "You're saying that we're free to beat any guy over the head with this?"

August gave her a look. "Well I'd prefer you not go beating up every patron in the bar as that tends to be bad for business, but if a guy is seriously harassing you, yes, you can use the club."

The brunette broke out into an evil grin. "Excellent! First guy to grab my ass tomorrow – _wham_!"

"You're violent tendencies scare me sometimes, Ruby." Emma tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn't help the laugh that escaped her when the girl gave her a wolfish grin.

* * *

Twenty-five days

Emma needed food.

Actually, the whole crew of the Jolly Roger needed food, but she was so hungry that the phrase 'every man for himself' was starting to sound better and better. Let them figure out their own food problem; they ate far more than she did, anyway. She glanced at the short span of water between the ship and the beach and debated if she could swim there in time to avoid the mermaids that Hook had told her occasionally plagued the area. As her stomach grumbled rather loudly and annoyingly, she decided that it was a risk she was almost willing to take.

It had been almost four weeks now since Clarion, the pixie queen, had made good on her word, successfully healing Emma of the dark magic that had been inflicted by the stabbing back in Tortuga and returning her to Hook in one piece. Emma couldn't remember much of what happened in the days to follow. Apparently, being cured from the dark curse had taken its toll and she'd ended up sleeping off the aftereffects for the majority of the next few days in Hook's cabin; although, she supposed that what was previously his cabin was now their cabin as she'd been staying in it even after she'd recovered.

"_What are you doing?"_

_Emma crossed the room and flopped down onto the sofa, fluffing the pillow she'd snatched from his bed and placing it behind her head. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sleeping on the couch."_

"_Why?" He seemed genuinely confused and Emma almost thought the puzzled look was cute._

"_Because I'm not sleeping in the bed."_

"_You've been sleeping in the bed for the past four days…"_

"_Only because I didn't have a say in the matter seeing how I was pretty much unconscious." Emma flicked the extra sheet she'd found in his armoire, the fabric spreading out and falling over her._

"_Well, this will make things a little more difficult." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "The bed is definitely larger… but I suppose we could make it work on the sofa as well. We'll just have to get creative." He gave her a smirk and wink combo and she looked away, smiling slightly._

"_I'm sleeping on the couch – alone."_

"_That's a shame, especially when my bed is quite comfortable." She knew that to be true, having spent most of her recovery time sleeping in it. She'd found out later that Hook had, surprisingly, been quite the gentleman and slept on the couch._

"_Yes, I'm sure many women would testify as to how comfortable your bed is."_

"_There's more than enough room here for both of us, love." He said it with a teasing lilt that never failed to make her smile._

"_Try all you want, Hook, there's no way I'm staying in that bed with you."_

"_You don't trust me, love?"_

_More like she didn't trust herself._

"_I don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."_

"_Hand, love – just one. But just so you know, I've had plenty of years to adapt. I've learned to do a great many things one-handed."_

"_I'm sure you have."_

Emma had been mentally preparing herself for the combined leap into the water and mad swim to shore – which she honestly knew she wouldn't do, she was just being dramatic – when Hook had come up behind her.

"I wouldn't chance it, love. You'll never make it to shore."

It was unnerving how he always seemed to know what she was thinking, but he'd also told her once before that she was very easy to read, that she was something of an open book.

"Well if we don't get some food soon, I'll jump into the water anyway just to lure a damn mermaid to catch and eat."

He chuckled. "You could try but seeing how a mermaid is half human, eating one is probably borderline cannibalism, which is generally frowned on." The gnawing sensation in her stomach prevented her mind from appreciating his joke, instead only making her frown.

They'd needed food for a while now. The unexpected and hasty departure from Tortuga, along with the impromptu trip to Neverland, had prevented Hook from restocking the food supply aboard the ship and now their provisions were beginning to run dangerously low.

He sighed at her silence. "I know we need food; that's why we're going ashore today." Emma perked up, her frown disappearing instantly. "The plans are to drop anchor just up ahead. Then, I'll take a small crew to land to search for food."

"About bloody time – when do we go?"

"_We_ will be leaving as soon as we drop anchor; _you_ will be staying here." Unbelievable. Frown already back, Emma opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about being left behind, but he held up his hand to stop her. "The Tiki Forest is a dangerous place, love, and I wouldn't have you getting hurt."

Emma stubbornly crossed her arms and refused to back down. "What was the point of all those swordplay lessons, then? I thought you were teaching me how to defend myself."

"Aye, and they'd no doubt come in handy if a wild boar decided to pull a sword on you and request a duel, but this is Neverland not Wonderland. I doubt your newfound sword-wielding abilities will be much help in taking down wild animals."

"I have other skills and you know it." She'd meant her statement to be taken as skills that would be helpful in collecting food, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized the opportunity she'd made available for Hook to make a sexually-suggestive comment. She was not disappointed as his face broke into a devilish smirk.

"Of that I've no doubt." He was standing too close to her now, invading her personal space as he did on what seemed like a regular basis now. "In fact, I'm aware of a great many skills you possess – swordplay, bartending, sailing, archery, kissing…"

"Putting up with you." She mumbled it under her breath and tried to hide the blush she felt at the reminder of their incident. She knew he'd heard her but he seemed untroubled by her addition to his list, shrugging casually.

"I'm sure you possess a number of other skills as well that I would be more than happy to discover if you would allow it."

"So then you'll let me come?"

"No."

"Then how will you find out about my other skills?" She was pulling at straws now.

He leaned forward and Emma instinctively pressed back against the railing to maintain the space between them, but her back could only bend so far. He paused, face dangerously close to hers. "When I mentioned the other talents I'd like to discover, what I really meant were those more suited to a bedroom."

"Gah, Hook!" She gave him one of her best glares and pushed him away from her but he only grinned in response, clearly pleased with how she'd walked into his suggestion. She moved from the side of the ship to prevent Hook from trapping her again. "This isn't fair." It came out in an almost-whine and Emma was absolutely sure she hadn't used that phrase since going through puberty.

"Yes, well, life tends to be unfair."

"You can't just tell me what I can and cannot do."

"I beg to differ." He moved then to take her spot against the side of the ship, leaning against it in a casual and impossibly sexy way that Emma did her best not to acknowledge. "One of the perks of being a captain, love, is that I get to make all the rules. So as long as you reside on the Jolly Roger, you play by my rules."

"Hook, you know I can help. I've seen the bow you have down in the cargo hold and you know that I'm a good shot." She'd found the bow not long after her recovery and had wondered where he'd gotten it but hadn't asked.

He held his chin thoughtfully. "Your safety would be compromised on land, and I don't enjoy the thought of being the one to put you in harm's way." His voice still held the teasing inflection from earlier, but his eyes betrayed the seriousness he felt about the situation.

"I trust you to protect me." It was a comment directed to appeal to one of a man's most basic instincts – the need to protect a lady – and it was her last resort.

The corner of his lips turned up and he pushed off from the railing, moving towards her again. With nothing but open deck behind her, there was no way for him to trap her again, but she chose to hold her ground and allow him to approach her. Emma wanted to prove that his self-assuredness didn't intimidate her – although, really, it did. He stopped when roughly a foot of space remained between them and reached forward to trail his fingertips lightly up her arm.

"But what if I'm the one you need protecting from, love?"

She felt her traitorous body respond to his charm yet again as her heart sped up and goosebumps broke out on in his fingers' wake. In an attempt to maintain some sort of control, she narrowed her eyes and tried to glare, although she wasn't sure how effective it really was. She figured he was aware of the effect he had on her, but he didn't push it this time, choosing to step back with a small laugh, instead.

"Fine, you can come." The moment gone, she broke out into a grin which most likely stretched from ear to ear. "But you have to stay with me. You can't go wandering off on your own."

"Deal." As if she would disagree.

It hadn't taken them long to get crew together and make their way to shore. Immediately, the crewmembers began to wander off into the jungle to hunt for food, but Hook had led Emma onto a well-worn trail, specifically telling her not to leave the path for any reason. The trail was narrow, forcing them to walk single file, and Emma insisted Hook go first, not quite trusting him to be behind her where she couldn't see him.

She'd known he wouldn't be able to refuse a comment – _"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you just wanted to sneak a peek at me"_ – but they fell into silence after that as they moved quietly down the path, ever watchful for anything that could be killed for a meal. The Enchanted Forest didn't really offer any jungles, so she found the atmosphere to be slightly claustrophobic. The narrow trail was lined with huge plants that blocked her view, heavy vines hung from the trees that towered overhead and blocked the sunlight, and the buzz of various insects hummed in the background. It felt like the entire jungle pressed in against her from all sides. Altogether, quite different from the forests she'd grown up in.

They hadn't been on the trail long when Hook came to a halt so abruptly that she almost ran into him. Peering over his shoulder, she searched for the reason they'd stopped. A dark shape lumbered through the trees and brush ahead of them. All pointed teeth and powerful frame and sharp claws – it was a bear. A _massive_ bear. Her heart began to pound in a mixture of fear and anticipation. While she'd spent most of her life honing her archery skills, she'd had very few chances to put her talent to practical use. Most of her time had been spent shooting at inanimate targets, with the exception of the group of men that had rushed her that night in Tortuga.

What she faced now was no target.

With more determination and confidence than she actually felt, Emma squared her jaw and nocked an arrow while Hook lowered into a crouch to give her room to shoot. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure that if the bear didn't hear it, it would be able to feel it through the earth. It moved slightly in the brush, giving her a perfect shot. Bow drawn, she stared down the arrow shaft at the bear and felt herself hesitate.

What if she merely wounded the animal? Would it rush to attack them, attempt to claw them to pieces in an injured rage?

What if she missed completely?

Emma wasn't sure how long she stood there, but then she felt Hook's hand settle around her ankle, could feel the pressure of it through her boot. He gave a reassuring squeeze – _you can do this_.

Drawing on his confidence in her, she let the arrow fly and it struck true, disappearing into the fur and flesh right behind its front shoulder where Emma knew its vital organs were. The bear roared in pain, its wild eyes rolling in every direction before they pinned on her. Emma stared at the beast in shock as it began to clamber through the brush straight towards her, but just when they were about to run, the animal slowed, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Her arrow had done its job.

Without warning, Hook stood up and pulled her into his chest in a crushing hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder and laughed with him, distractedly noticing how she could feel his racing heart, still charged with energy, mirror hers. "Excellent job, love! Perfect shot."

It was a completely genuine hug, one of the few non-sexually-charged interactions she'd had with Hook, and she found she enjoyed it much more than she would like to admit.

Fifty-four days

The song drifting through the air was hauntingly beautiful, even from a distance. It was dusk, that time of the evening where the light is fading, making it difficult to see, but Emma could still make out the shapes against the rocks. Bright skin, long hair, and scales. The disturbingly humanoid creatures waved to the ship.

"Those are mermaids?"

"Aye." Hook leaned against the railing beside her on the upper deck. His face was unnaturally tense, jaw clenched tight; all of his typical, carefree swagger was gone. He stared out at the women on the rocks.

"They don't look all _that_ bad…"

"Don't let them fool you, love. Mermaids are a nasty business. Dark and dangerous creatures in touch with all things mysterious." He frowned as one of them sang a particularly high note. "During the day they swim all through the sea around here and then come back to these rocks near sunset and rising tide before going to their underwater caves. We call it Mermaids' Lagoon." He motioned to a large rock in the middle of the lagoon. "They particularly like Marooner's Rock."

Emma watched as a few of the mermaids splashed their fins playfully in the water. Half-fish or not, they were still half-woman and therefore knew how to draw a man's attention. Obviously, female charms could cross species.

"They'll drown a man just as soon as look at him."

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the mermaids lounging on the rocks, and Emma suddenly realized that the lack of noise that always accompanied the ship was unusual. Looking down at the lower deck, she saw every crewmember watching the mermaids with a look of longing, not a one of them working.

Men…

"Bloody sea demons." Hook had a fierce look on his face.

Emma could faintly remember stories her mother had told her about mermaids; tales where they came to the aid of stranded sailors, mischievous yet helpful beings. She'd never depicted them as the devious creatures Hook was describing.

"Does their singing bother you?"

"Their siren song is like a drug to a man's thoughts. It pulls at his very being until he's not even aware of what he's doing. I've seen many a man succumb to a mermaid's cry; jump into the ocean only to be pulled to his death."

Hook dragged himself away from the railing with, what seemed like, some difficulty and returned to the helm. The ship had begun to drift dangerously close to the lagoon. He turned the wheel sharply, steering them away from the mermaids and their deadly song, and Emma could hear their plaintive cries at the sight of the men leaving. Hook's jaw was still clenched and she wondered if he'd ever been close to falling prey to the mermaids.

If he'd ever been one to jump.

Eighty-nine days

It was going to be an unbearably hot day, she just knew it. The near constant breeze on the water had stilled and there were no clouds in the sky to block the blazing sun. It was only a matter of time before things started to get miserable so when Hook mentioned them going to shore and resting in the shade, Emma jumped at the opportunity.

She relaxed in the shade of the Neverwood trees, dozing in and out of sleep for most of the morning, before deciding to go on a short walk down the beach. She passed a sleeping Hook and moved through the crewmembers that were scattered over the beach, lazing around, before finding a trail some ways down the beach and entering the woods.

The Neverwoods were different than the Tiki Forest – the forest was more like a jungle, while the Neverwoods were more like the traditional woodlands of the Enchanted Forest – although no less dangerous according to Hook. Emma liked the woods much better though; they were more open, making it easier to see farther than just a few feet into the woods. She was getting ready to turn back, figuring it was close to noon and time to eat, when she spotted a fruit tree just off the path.

She thought about what Hook had told her once before, about not straying from trails, but it was only a few feet away and she was terribly hungry and the fruit just looked so delicious and, really, what could go wrong? When the first couple steps off the path didn't result in her untimely demise, she decided to admonish Hook later for being such a baby. Feeling arrogant, Emma reached for the fruit, not noticing the trip wire and subsequent dart until it was too late.

When Emma awoke, she was laying on the ground staring up at a sky that no longer displayed a morning sun but a late afternoon sun. She was just beginning to try to piece together what had happened, when the sky was obscured by a circle of young boys that stood over her.

"Is she a bird?"

"She ain't a bird, Tootles. That was Wendy."

"But I thought you said Wendy wasn't a bird."

"She was at first and _then_ she turned into a mother."

What?

Emma tried to make sense of what she was hearing and seeing, although she quickly abandoned trying to figure out what the boys were talking about; she didn't even want to try to understand the relationship between birds and mothers. As for what she was seeing… since there were no other wild and deranged kids running around Neverland, the boys that stood above her must be Peter Pan and his Lost Boys.

She'd seen them on multiple occasions but only ever from the safety of the Jolly Roger and had yet to talk to one of them, which she'd figured wasn't a bad thing because they seemed like wild and ferocious little things.

"_What on earth?" She mumbled it to herself, more stunned than anything to see what looked like a group of young boys on the distant shore. They danced and hopped around, dangerously close to the cliff's edge, brandishing spears out towards the ship and yelling obscenities and threats._

"_The Lost Boys."_

_He said it as if it wasn't shocking in the least for there to be a dozen boys wandering around Neverland without any adult supervision, flaunting weapons and yelling curses._

"_Where'd they come from? How'd they get here?"_

"_There's one among them calls himself Peter Pan. Told me once that he came here so long ago that he doesn't even remember how; all he knows is Neverland." Both of them watched the boys prance around. "For some reason, the little brat can fly. You flew with the help of Tinkerbell's dust, but he's different. It's like the magic here is ingrained in him; he doesn't need pixie dust to fly, he just does it. "_

"_And the others?"_

"_He brought them all here from another realm; some place without magic. Anyway, he's in charge of the boys now, although his leadership abilities leave something to be desired." She didn't doubt that for a second as one boy pushed another, almost causing him to topple over the cliff. The sound of their laughter stretched across the water, as if the boy's near death was merely an exciting turn of events in some game._

Slowly she moved to sit up, all of the boys jumping back and forming a line except for one slightly taller, sandy-haired boy that stood in front of the others. There were seven total, not a one of them looking older than ten or eleven. They stared at her curiously as if she were the most exotic thing they'd seen in years, which, when she thought about it, was probably true.

"What's your name, pirate?" The slightly taller one in front asked the question and she assumed him to be Peter Pan.

"I'm not a pirate. And my name is Emma."

"That's a dumb name for a pirate." This time it was a small, dark-haired boy that spoke. She noticed that he was holding a hand-carved flute and wondered if he'd managed to make it himself.

"Well I guess it's a good thing I'm not a pirate."

When she'd first boarded the Jolly Roger, she'd had nothing more than the clothes on her back. Thankfully, Hook had a few items of women's clothing – she didn't really ask the particulars of how or why – in his cargo hold for her to wear. Seeing how he was a pirate, most of the clothes he'd had available for her to wear slightly resembled pirate-like attire, which was obviously not helping her case.

"Wait a minute – you're a girl!" Well spotted, kid. "There's no girls in Neverland, pirate."

"I'm _not_ a pirate."

"You're big so you must be." As if every adult was automatically a pirate. She once again had to stop and think that, to these boys, that was probably true – the only adults in Neverland were either Indians or pirates and she was evidently not an Indian.

"I promise you, I'm not a pirate."

"Well if you ain't a pirate, why were you with Captain Hook?" She didn't even have time to answer before he continued. "Oh, I know – if you're a girl, you must be his captive."

"We can't let her go back to Captain Hook, Pan." She briefly thought that, since they believed her to be a captive, the curly-haired boy's comment at least made partial sense. "We should steal her."

Nevermind.

Emma gritted her teeth in frustration. She was surrounded by irrational, thieving, sexist, ten year old boys.

"Good idea, Curly. I know - she'll be Mother!" Emma blinked and stared blankly at Pan as all of the other boys cheered. "Oh, the cleverness of me!" To her surprise, Peter began to hover a few inches off the ground, a wide grin on his face, fully pleased with himself, before floating in circles around her.

"Mother?" She probably sounded stupid but she was in such shock at the boys' absurd train of thought that it was hard to focus.

"You'll read us stories and cook us food and make us feel better when we're sick." Pan looked fully pleased with his idea. "You'll be Mother and I'll be Father." She doubted that his adolescent mind could fully comprehend what else being a mother and father entailed.

"Alright Lost Boys, if she's to be Mother, she needs to come with us. To the Wendy House!" The boys exploded into activity, two identical boys coming up to loop their arms through hers and pull her into the woods. She dug her heels in, trying to resist their tugging, but when more of the boys began to pull, she realized it was a lost cause.

It was embarrassing, really – being kidnapped by children.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, lads." Emma's head whipped around at the familiar voice. She hadn't even heard him approaching yet there he was, leaning casually against the tree fingering the hilt of the cutlass at his side.

"Hook!" One of the boys – she couldn't tell who – yelled it out and suddenly Peter was the only one left, the others having fled into the jungle. Emma was shocked at the turn of events. As she stared at the two remaining people, she came to three conclusions: (1) the Lost Boys were complete and utter cowards, (2) there was no great loyalty between them as they'd abandoned Peter to face Hook alone, and (3) Hook was highly amused by the whole kidnapping situation judging by the grin on his face.

"Hello, beautiful. Did you miss me?"

"This is our Mother, pirate – get your own!" To his credit, Peter at least looked brave as he jumped between the two adults and held out his small sword towards Hook. At the boy's words, Hook looked at her, seemingly on the verge of laughing at whatever mess she'd managed to get herself into, but she just shot him a glare that carried a very clear message – _don't ask_.

Attention back on her would-be captor, Hook took a few intimidating steps towards the boy. "I don't need a mother." When he was close enough, he reached out and flicked the end of Peter's blade. "You sure you want to do this, boy?"

"I'll fight you! I'm not scared!"

"I'm not here to fight. I just want the lass."

"She's not a lass, she's Mother." Peter probably didn't even know what a lass was.

"Well then your mother belongs to me."

Emma almost choked, which was quite an accomplishment considering there was nothing in her mouth. "I do _not_ belong to you." Hook shot her a look that visibly said she wasn't helping the situation.

"Tell him you don't want to be his captive anymore, Mother. Tell him you want to go with us." The boy turned to her with an almost pleading look in his eyes that made her stop. While there was no way she would go with him and the Lost Boys, she couldn't help but feel sad at knowing how badly they probably needed a parental figure.

Hook, however, must have been tired of the boy's antics. He moved forward suddenly, Pan flying up and out of the way, before catching her arm. "Let's go, _Mother_." He was still struggling to hold back a laugh as he put as much emphasis into her new title as possible. Hook pulled her close, leaning his head over to murmur in her ear as he led them out of the forest. "Next time, stick to the trails like I told you."

Emma didn't respond, just watched as Peter hovered in the treetops and called out to her before flying away. "Don't worry, Mother, we'll find you!"

She hoped to whatever being could hear her that he wouldn't.

They made it back to the Jolly Roger without any other mishaps, although Emma was tempted to physically maim Hook as he teased her about her newfound parental status. He wasn't angry in the least at her unexpected capture; rather, he seemed overtly amused at the whole situation. Back aboard the ship, Emma sat in the cabin while Hook navigated them away from the coast and into deeper waters. It wasn't until later that evening that she finally went to the helm to talk to him.

"Hook, why _aren't_ there any girls in Neverland?" It seemed such a silly idea, that only boys could stay here.

"I've no idea, love. Just how it goes, I guess." Emma sat with her back against the ship's railings, watching the men on the lower deck as they laughed and drank, generally enjoying life. Hook dropped down to sit beside her. "I did ask Pan once, though."

She looked at him then, a vision of the sandy-haired boy floating in circles around her coming to mind. "With all the nonsense he spouts, I'd be surprised if he could give you a logical answer."

"No, he's not exactly lucid." He chuckled. "It was something along the lines of lost boys being children who fall out of their beds when their mothers aren't looking."

"What the… that makes no sense whatsoever. And _still_ doesn't explain why there aren't any girls."

Hook smiled at her bewilderment. "Well, he said that girls are too clever to ever fall out of their beds and be lost in such a manner."

"Oh, of course. Because when you put it like that..." And they both shared a laugh. The sky stretched out over her in the fading light and Emma wondered if there was anything else in this realm except the island or if the sea just went on forever. Maybe if they sailed long enough, they'd come to Tortuga. Suddenly, Emma felt a pang of longing so sharp that she winced – she missed her friend.

"I wish Ruby could've come with us to Neverland. She'd have loved this."

"Ruby?"

Emma turned to Hook in surprise, ready to admonish him for forgetting her friend so quickly, but then she paused. She'd been about to say something… about a ruby? Why on earth would a ruby be her friend? That was ridiculous, something more likely to be said by the deranged Peter Pan. She was well past the age for make-believe friends, even if the gem would make a rather pretty one. But she was absolutely sure she'd been about to say something about a ruby…

"You're bloody brilliant, Swan." Hook moved quickly, leaning over her and pressing a quick kiss to her lips before jumping up to turn to his crew. Emma touched her lips absentmindedly as he spoke, stunned at the sudden kiss. "Listen up, lads. Get your rest because tomorrow we're going to look for treasure. I've got a mind to find some rubies."

He grinned at her over his shoulder and Emma couldn't help but smile back. They would search the island for rubies – what an excellent idea. If they found some, Hook might even let her fashion some sort of necklace with one. She was surprised, though; most of the time it was Hook that came up with their adventures, came up with plans of what they would do next. She couldn't help but feel pleased to have come up with such an exciting proposal.

But a frown passed over face when she realized she couldn't quite remember exactly _how_ she'd come up with it.

* * *

**Neverland is a tricky place. It messes with your head without you even realizing it.  
**

**I love how Peter Pan and the Lost Boys are all older in the OUAT episodes, but I really wanted to keep them young in this story. I always enjoyed the idea of crazy ten year olds that make no sense running around, perpetually stuck in that everything-is-a-game phase.**

**Thanks so much for reviewing!**


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**A Bedtime Story and A Drinking Game**

"_I have a fire in my fingers and I want to believe in this, in me, in you and the way your eyes burn when you look at me."_

* * *

"Have I ever told you the story of Neverland?"

Her father was seated on one side of her bed, ready to tell the bedtime story, while her mother sat on the other side, pulling the blankets up to Emma's chin. She had just turned five about a month ago – which was _so_ much better than four – and thought she was a big girl now, but she still liked it when her parents told her stories.

"No, what's Neverland?"

"It's a magical place; an island in the middle of a great sea that's filled with all sorts of things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, there are all sorts of animals – birds, monkeys, deer, bears, pigs, snakes. All the animals you could ever think of. There's even a story of a great bird that flies over the island called the Neverbird."

"And there are also mermaids." It was her mother that spoke now and Emma's eyes quickly shot to her. "Beautiful mermaids that play along the shores and help people that become lost at sea or fall in the water."

"Who would need their help?"

"The Indians that live in Neverland, of course. There's a whole tribe of them that have lived there since the beginning. They live in the Neverland Plains, a great grassland that stretches on for miles, where they ride horses and hunt. And sometimes they go to the sea and fish and swim and play with the mermaids."

A vision of riding her very own horse – obviously it would be a paint because they were very pretty with their splotched colors – across the grassland all by herself, chasing after some wild animal, hung in her mind. Her father had let her ride his stallion a few times before but only while he held the reigns and led the tall animal. After the first ride, Emma had been persistent – because she was _five_ and that was plenty old enough to do things on her own now – but her father had never relented.

"And do you know what the best part of Neverland is?"

Focus returned to the tale, Emma's eyes were wide with delight; this was the best bedtime story she'd heard in ages. "What?"

"You never have to grow old. Anyone that lives in Neverland will stay young forever."

Never have to grow up? To stay perpetually young and spend forever having fun, riding horses with the Indians and swimming with the mermaids. It all sounded so amazing, she could barely stand it.

"Oh, Dad, can we sail there? Please?" She'd been on one of the royal ships a couple times now, and it was always so much fun because she couldn't see the land at all when they went very far out and if she stood at the very front of the ship she could sometimes see dolphins swimming in the water ahead of them.

"I would take you in an instant if I could, but Neverland isn't a place you sail to." Her father leaned in conspiratorially. "The only way to get there is to fly."

"Fly?" She whispered the word, enthralled. Flying? How exciting!

"Yes, dear, you fly up in the sky, high as you can, and follow the second star to the right straight on 'til morning."

* * *

One hundred twelve days

Stars.

If Emma had to pick one thing that she loved most about being in Neverland, it would be the stars.

The deck was cold against her back as she laid at the bow of the Jolly Roger, legs dangling over the side of the ship, gazing up at them. Despite being a world away from the place where she first learned their names, she was still able to pick out the familiar constellations. If she blocked out the sea and the ship and the strange island, she could almost pretend she wasn't in another realm.

Almost being the key word, though, since the stars were all shifted around in the sky.

Apparently, after travelling to the second star to the right and all that, one got a completely different perspective on the sky. Orion, which should be more or less directly above her, was scooted far to the left and down a ways. Still in the sky, just not in the right spot.

But wasn't that the right spot? It must be… after all, it had been there every night for the past four months; Emma had seen it almost nightly with her own eyes. How could something that's obviously there not be in the right spot? It wouldn't _be_ there if it wasn't the right spot.

But didn't it used to be somewhere else…?

Emma blinked hard. Neverland played cruel tricks with a person's mind; Hook had told her that. At the time, she wasn't able to comprehend exactly how stealthy it was, never having been exposed to it. The key to Neverland's magic wasn't necessarily in making a person forget; Emma could recall certain memories just fine. It was when she tried to focus on particular aspects that everything got fuzzy.

She could remember running away as a child, but not where she'd run to. She could remember having a gorgeous friend with a feisty attitude, but not her name or how they'd met. She could remember working in a bar, but not what it looked like or what it was called. She could remember getting stabbed at some point, but not why.

It was as if actively delving into certain thoughts, anything that could be even remotely traced to wanting to return home, made them fade. It was disconcerting. To think of something and then it just be gone. Tinkerbell told her once that if she stayed here long enough, she would eventually forget everything; there was no real rhyme or reason to which memories were forgotten first, although the pixie had mentioned that the happier ones tended to be the first to go.

The stars twinkled. Emma always thought they shone brighter here than wherever she had been before this.

Or had she been in Neverland forever?

"You know, I never thought I'd find someone that enjoyed the stars as much as me until I met you." Emma tilted her head back, finding Hook a few feet behind her leaning against a stack of crates. He wasn't looking at her, though; his gaze was focused on the sky just as hers had been.

"I didn't take you for a star-gazer, Hook."

"I'm a pirate, love. It comes with the package." She knew that; had spent more time than she cared to admit watching and admiring him as he navigated the ship based on the stars alone. When he finally looked at her, she couldn't hold his gaze for long and turned back to her previous position. "So what compels you to watch the skies every night?"

"I like the stars." The feeling of grass beneath her hands and being nestled against a warm body and of arms wrapped around her in an embrace floated through her head, but she didn't know what they meant. "I think they remind me of someone."

"And let me guess – you can't remember who." She frowned slightly as the conversation returned to the train of thought she'd had before his arrival and heard him walk towards her, boots loud against the wooden deck.

"I can remember things, but when I try to think about the things I'm remembering, I forget." It sounded confusing but she knew he'd understand.

"And that, my dear…" Hook moved to lay beside her. "… is Neverland's curse."

"And yet you came back. I mean, you've spent time here before; doesn't it bother you to always have trouble remembering?" Now that she understood the magic a little better, she couldn't fathom why he would voluntarily come here knowing what this realm did.

He nodded slightly. "Sometimes I wish I could remember." Then a strange look passed over his face and his voice dropped. "But sometimes it's nice to forget."

Emma was looking at him, staring at his profile, trying to memorize him in this moment. So much of their time together was spent on adventures through Neverland, times filled with fun and teasing. She rarely got to see Hook serious like this; the only other time being that day on the cliffs after a lesson.

Wait…

"I remember you."

He turned to her then with a deep look on his face that she much preferred to the melancholy one from before. Nothing about him had faded, not a single moment of their time together, although she didn't quite understand how or why. Every memory that came to mind was still perfectly clear.

"I remember meeting you and you saving my life. All of our talks. The lessons. Your stupid innuendos. I remember choosing to go to you when I was stabbed."

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. That profound look was still on his face as he stared at her, and she was almost mesmerized by how brilliant his eyes were in that moment. They seemed to change based on any given situation and were now a brighter, icy-blue. Everything felt so concentrated, and Emma couldn't take it.

"Don't get a big head or anything."

And the moment was broken. Picking up on her cues, Hook relaxed, his face easing into a slight smirk, and Emma was glad to be back on familiar ground again.

"They'll fade, same as everything else, in time. Although, if I didn't know better, I'd say you harbored some sort of affection for me."

She snorted a laugh. "Well I guess it's a good thing you know better. I'd hate for you to go around thinking something that wasn't true."

"I've obviously made an impression on you, love. Of all the things in the world for you to still remember, you remember me."

The accustomed repartee put her at ease in a way few other things could. Over their time together, she'd come to realize that Hook used his innuendos and teasing comments in more than one way. Obviously, he used them to flatter women – she knew he meant every word he said and would most likely make good on his suggestions if she ever decided to take him up on an offer – but they were also used as a buffer in conversations; a natural way to ease tension or redirect the discussion from a potentially unwanted topic.

"I wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe Neverland's curse is really that it only allows you to remember the things that annoy you the most." It was a pretty slick retort, if she did say so herself, and she met his smirk with one of her own.

"Admit it – you've got a soft spot for me."

At that, she gave him a dubious look even though she knew he could read through her snubs far too easily; he'd always been able to call her bluff. He cut off any reply she might have had, though, when he leaned over and kissed her.

He'd kissed her occasionally since their first one in his cabin – it seemed like a lifetime ago – before setting sail for Neverland, although he never pushed her any farther than that. Some were chaste and gentlemanly, some were demanding and wild. Some were so innocent they would startle her, some were so passionate they would leave her winded.

This one was soft and slow.

His mouth was moving gently against hers and his fingertips were softly tracing the outside of her ear and his chest was almost touching hers and they were practically out in the open for everyone to see…

And she found she didn't care.

One hundred fifty days

To be honest, the sea serpent had come out of nowhere. The Jolly Roger had been anchored off the shore near Crocodile Creek – because Hook just _had_ to kill a crocodile – when the creature attacked. The suctioned tentacles that crept over the sides of the ship had immediately brought to mind frightening stories she'd heard about the kraken. Thankfully, this monster was nowhere near the gigantic proportion of the beast from the tales, but it still did a number on the ship.

In the end, they managed to drive the serpent away, but not without sustaining a few casualties. Several men sported cuts and scrapes and one had been dragged overboard to his death. Emma and Hook had fared fairly well, at least until Emma had fallen overboard.

She'd been fighting with a particularly nasty tentacle, choosing to climb some of the rigging to gain an elevated advantage, and was just starting to gain the upper hand when the creature slammed into the ship, the sudden movement causing her to lose her grip and fall into the water. From what the men told her, Hook had jumped to her rescue, pulling her to safety just as the rest of the crew finally drove the serpent away.

While Emma emerged relatively unscathed, Hook suffered a nasty cut from his momentary lapse in attention at her fall and what seemed like the beginnings of a cold from the freezing water he'd jumped into. She felt awful, really, since both of his conditions were technically her fault. That's why she was currently forcing him to rest in his cabin while she tended to his injury.

"I rather enjoy you taking care of me, love. You truly are a woman of many talents. And look, this one can even be related to a bedroom."

Let it be known that being sick and injured did nothing to dampen Hook's personality.

"You're hopeless." She pressed the damp cloth to his forehead, cleaning away the dried blood to better inspect the cut; that's when she noticed the fever. "And you're hot…"

"Well it's about time – I thought you'd never notice."

Emma gave him a severe look. Her body already felt sore from the fighting and climbing and swimming; how he had the ability to flirt right now was beyond her. "You have a fever, a high one. You need to stay here and rest until it passes."

His playfulness melted away. "No, no, no. I'm not staying in bed like an invalid." He tried to sit up but she simply pushed him back down, the ease of it being a testament to how bad he must really feel.

"You're in no condition to be out on deck. The more you rest, the quicker you'll get better. I'll let the crew know and we'll drop anchor somewhere until you're better. They're more than capable of repairing the ship." She reached for the bowl of soup the cook had whipped up for her. "Now eat this." With a stubborn glare, he grabbed the bowl and began to eat, while she returned her focus to the cut.

"You're a tough lass. You'd make one hell of a pirate."

She didn't know what to say so she remained silent, pressing a piece of gauze to his wound and beginning to wrap it. His slight wince didn't escape her notice.

"Does it hurt very much?"

"It's _throbbing_." And it sounded dirty because it was Hook who said it.

She rolled her eyes with a soft laugh; he had this unfailing ability to make anything sound perverted. "Yeah, you're going to be fine. Finish that soup and I'll come check on you later." She turned to him before she closed the door, giving him a warning look. "And don't even think about getting up or leaving this cabin."

"I love it when you order me around, Swan."

"Ugh, shut up."

One hundred ninety-eight days

"I think you're right, Cap'n. Women just can't hold their liquor."

Emma sat with her back against the mast, doing her best to ignore Hook and his crew's taunts and gritting her teeth; if she were a dog, her fur would be bristling at this point.

It was one of those days where it was minutes away from snowing and as the day turned to night, the crew had decided that a drinking game would be the best way to warm everyone up. It hadn't taken much to convince Hook to play but then they all ganged up on her.

"Come on, Swan – prove us wrong."

"Show us how a real woman drinks."

"Unless you think you can't handle it, love."

The last comment came from Hook, playing at her stubbornness and pride. With a frustrated growl, Emma stood up, throwing the blanket she'd been covered with to the deck, and stomped over to the circle of men before flopping down to join them. She tried her best to hide the smile she felt as the men cheered at her presence.

It turned out to be a relatively easy game, something involving coins behind bounced into mugs, and Emma was surprised to find she did fairly well. The crew teamed up with her to focus all their efforts on getting their captain wasted – which by the end of the game was a complete success and quite hilarious as she'd never seen Hook that drunk – and they spent the rest of the evening casually drinking, eating, and laughing so much that her cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

It was late when Hook moved from the small group he was in to sit by her. He sat close, his shoulder lightly bumping against hers. He wasn't as drunk as he'd been earlier, having had some time to sober up, but she knew he was still intoxicated. He handled it well, though; much better than she was. She'd had to slow down, taking sips instead of gulps, a couple hours back, but the alcohol was still affecting her. He talked with the men she'd been sitting with for a while before he turned to speak only to her.

"It's getting late. One more drink before we call it a night? I think I have something in my cabin."

It _was_ late. Her eyes felt heavy with drowsiness; or maybe that was from the alcohol. She couldn't really tell. His comment sounded something like a bad pickup line – how convenient that the alcohol was in a secluded cabin away from everyone else – but she knew he hadn't meant it that way and wondered if it was a bad thing that she could now tell the difference between when he was insinuating something and being genuine.

"Ok."

He stared at her in surprise. "You gave into that far quicker than I expected, love."

"Only because I'm cold and it's bound to be warmer in your cabin than out here." Which was partially true.

"And if it's not, we can find some kind of activity to warm it up."

She couldn't help but smile at the typical response as they both stood up and made their way to his quarters. "I should've seen that one coming."

"If you didn't, you've learned absolutely nothing about me in the almost three years we've known each other."

"Oh, it didn't take me long to figure you out, Hook." He opened the door to his cabin for her and she tried to ignore the feeling of his hand against the small of her back as she passed him. "You're just one big, walking innuendo."

He managed to look at her, feigning affront, before pulling out two bottles from a desk drawer and waving them in her direction. "Whiskey or rum?"

"Rum." Whiskey had always done atrocious things to her decision-making abilities and that was the last thing she needed to happen around Hook, especially when alcohol in general seemed to heighten her every sense.

He dropped the whiskey bottle back in the drawer with a genuine smile. "That's my girl." Handing her the mug, he returned to sit in the chair at his desk rather than beside her on the couch as she'd expected. He leaned back, balancing the chair on two legs, with one foot propped against the leg of the desk and she couldn't help but think he looked unbearably attractive.

He studied her for a moment before he spoke. "Can I ask you a question, love?" Automatically bracing herself for whatever he had in mind, she nodded. "Do you ever miss it? Being a barmaid, I mean."

She hadn't known what question to expect from him but that certainly wasn't it. It took her a moment to recall the years spent in the bar, had to pull them out of Neverland's grasp, but then the memories were clear. "You mean do I miss men harassing me and touching me and trying to get me to go home with them?" She paused. "Sometimes."

"That's a scandalous admission, Miss Swan. One might be inclined to think that you were somewhat less than virtuous." She smiled and cocked an eyebrow at his snooty tone. "And did you ever go home with any of those men?"

"I was a barmaid, Hook, not a saint. That would be like me asking if you'd ever taken a woman from a tavern to bed."

He returned her smile and took a drink. "Fair enough."

They settled into silence and a couple thoughts popped into her head. They weren't saying anything and were already into a semi-personal conversation so Emma took a few drinks of rum knowing she'd need some more liquid courage to ask what was really on her mind.

"Can I ask _you_ something?"

"Ask away, milady." Hook's tone was flippant but they both knew that her question would be anything but.

"What revenge do you seek? I heard it mentioned during my time with the pixies."

He'd gone very still, eyes falling to the tattoo on his forearm. So this revenge had to do with Milah… he'd said she'd died but Emma now had a feeling that wasn't the whole truth. When he spoke, his voice was low and solemn.

"I met Milah in a tavern in the Enchanted Forest a long time ago. She was deeply unhappy, married to a coward, and came to me before I left town to beg me to take her away. Her husband wasn't even willing to fight for her." Emma knew next to nothing about this woman but felt a deep understanding at her desire to escape. "I have no use for cowards."

His voice had turned darker, angrier, at his last few words and she wondered if that statement was the crux of Captain Hook.

"So I took her with me. I liked her well enough at first, but over time I grew to love her. She was different. Not your typical, demure maiden; no, she was wild and free… full of life. She'd been dying in that town, everything about it stifled her, but out there on the sea… that was where she belonged."

He grew quiet, eyes dark, and he took a long drink of rum. "What happened to her?"

"He killed her." His eyes shot to hers. "He _murdered_ her."

"Who?" The question was barely audible.

"Turns out, while we were sailing the seas, her husband had become the Dark One. We met by chance one day, several years after Milah had come with me, and when he found out that she had willingly left him instead of been forced as he'd believed, he was furious. So he tied me to the mast, pulled out her heart, and crushed it right in front of me."

Emma's chest was tight. She couldn't breathe.

"I had to stand there and watch her die."

"So your revenge… you wanted to find a way to kill the Dark One?" Emma had heard stories of the Dark One – Rumplestiltskin, they called him. He'd been exiled, sent to a far off corner of the land when her parents had defeated the Evil Queen.

"Aye. But he's damn near immortal and I'm just a man. That's when I came to Neverland for the second time." She recalled him mentioning that he'd been to this realm twice. "I came to the only place where I had all the time in the world to plan my revenge."

"And how long did you stay in Neverland?"

"Somewhere close to three hundred years."

Three hundred years. Three _hundred_ years. Now it made sense why he was so damned good at everything – he'd had multiple centuries to practice. Which really wasn't fair at all but that was beside the point because _three hundred years_.

"I was here for so long with nothing to do but think about how angry I was, how much I wanted to kill Rumplestiltskin. My need for revenge very nearly consumed me."

"_And anger is a curse, a bottomless feeling that can grow and consume a person. Fill a person with rage. Make him dark… I wouldn't have you see me dark like that, Emma."_

Those words made more sense to her now.

"Eventually, I heard of a dagger; it's the only thing that can kill the imp so I returned to the Enchanted Forest to find it."

"Did you?" But she felt she already knew the answer.

"No."

And that's where it ended. His deepest secret. The thing that had always gone unmentioned in their past moments of sharing. He'd fallen in love, watched her die, and then spent an eternity searching for a way to avenge her death only to still come up short. It was tragic.

She stood up and walked towards Hook; he was still leaning back in the chair and his eyes followed her movement. She stopped in front of him, leaning against the edge of the desk near his foot with his other leg only a couple feet in front of her own, and stared down at him for a moment.

"You know of King Charming and Queen Snow?" The words were out before her brain had time to process the decision of whether or not to say it. There was no going back now. She fiddled with the still half-full mug in her hands and stared over his head into the cabin, too afraid to meet his eyes, but could see him nod in her peripheral vision. "I'm their daughter."

She glanced at him hesitantly and saw him staring at her with a blank look that might have been the least amount of expression she'd ever seen on his face.

"Love, the princess has been missing for years. She disappeared when she was…"

"Twelve." Emma cut in. "But she didn't disappear so much as run away." At the shadow that moved across his face, she knew he remembered their conversation on the cliffs.

"You're…" His brow was furrowed and he seemed to have trouble processing the information. "So you're saying that _you're_ the long lost princess?"

"Guilty."

"If you really are the princess, why would you run away? Life as a royal shouldn't leave you wanting for much."

"Actually, it left me wanting for a great deal. Money, fancy clothes, jewelry, parties… they were all trivial and completely pointless things that I didn't want. Being able to wear trousers and hunting shirts, learning how to use a bow and protect myself, knowing how to survive outside of the palace walls – those are practical things that actually come in handy. What use are dresses and trinkets?"

"Well, they can be quite valuable to a pirate. I've brought in some good money from stolen valuables." Emma gave him a hard look and he quickly added to his statement. "But that's different."

"What I wanted was a chance to live. I wasn't allowed to do anything; I couldn't even do something as simple as walk around town without someone hovering over me. They controlled every aspect of my life." As she spoke, Emma could see Hook's countenance change as he began to take her words as truth. "I told you before how they had everything planned out for me. I was only twelve – _twelve_ – but I was already betrothed, promised to some prince to be married on my eighteenth birthday. My parents were the bloody definition of true love yet they were forcing me into an arranged marriage."

"And so you decided to run away."

"My mother told me about my betrothal on my birthday. I can still remember how betrayed I felt…" The unexpected slap and the way her cheek lightly stung afterwards. "It was the last straw. So I left. Packed my bags, bought my way onto a trading ship, and set sail for someplace far outside the reach of my parents. Some place where no one would recognize me."

"A princess – one that had everything a person could ever ask for at her disposal – abandons her birthright and runs away, settling in Tortuga to work as a barmaid."

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

"You could've stayed; tried to convince them to reconsider."

"If you had the chance to change your fate, would you?" And he didn't even have to answer because she already knew the circumstances surrounding his young life. Hook had told her how his father had abandoned him, how the people that had taken him tried to train him for a life as a blacksmith but he didn't want it, deciding to leave for a life on the seas instead.

They were so very much alike.

The chair legs hit the floor and he set his tankard on the floor before standing up. There wasn't very much room between them to start with, but Emma pushed away from the desk at his movement, coming closer to him. They'd both had an unwanted life ahead of them, had chosen to take control of their future, and she couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same connection with her as she did with him.

He was gazing at her and his eyes were dark; she recognized that hungering look. Breaking eye contact, she looked down between them at the mug still gripped in her hands only to find them shaking. The air felt like heavy, the sexual tension suddenly so thick it was almost tangible, the energy of it crackling like electricity.

She raised the mug to her mouth, downing the liberal amount of rum that remained. While she had been tipsy before, still feeling some of the aftereffects of the drinking game, now the rum raced through her body, quickly pushing her far past mild inebriation. Her mind felt fuzzy, vision slightly blurry, and body impossibly languorous but Hook was looking at her intensely and she couldn't think of anything except that she wanted him.

So with a confidence borne only through her drunken state, she grabbed for Hook, gripping the lapels of his jacket, and crashed her lips to his.

It was the first time she'd ever made the move to kiss him and he paused – she'd like to think in shock or surprise – for a moment before responding, wrapping his left arm around her back while his right hand cupped her head. She felt like she was burning. Every time he'd ever touched her she'd experienced heat, and now she could feel the fire that followed in the wake of his hand as it moved down her side to settle at her waist.

They kissed roughly, her back arching as he leaned into her. In response, she pushed against his lips, fighting him for dominance, and a noise rumbled through his chest at the challenge. He began to walk her backwards until she felt the desk press against her backside. The hand that had been at her waist strayed lower now, moving down and around to the back of her thigh, and she felt the pressure as he pulled on her leg. She knew what he wanted and ended the kiss long enough to scoot up onto his desk.

Following her, he stepped into the space she'd vacated, standing between her legs now, and pressed his hips to hers in the way she desperately craved. "Gods, Emma." His voice was tight, like it would snap under the pressure they were creating. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

If it was anything like what he did to her, she understood and had felt the same for far too long. Their many layers of clothing did nothing to stop the searing heat she felt. He was grinding against her and it was _wonderful_ because she positively ached for him and couldn't seem to touch him enough.

Some distant part of her mind snidely mentioned she should have done this a long time ago and Emma was so far gone that she was inclined to agree. "I want you. Now." It was a plea – she needed him so bad – and he all but growled at her words.

She pushed at his clothing, shoving the leather jacket to the floor before reaching for the clasps of his vest, undoing the fastenings urgently while his hand worked at the laces of her bodice. He smelled like a tantalizing mixture of rum and leather and sex and her mind felt like it was literally drowning in a haze of drunken lust.

"You're drunk."

And she was; swimming in a sea of inebriation. She'd spent so long trying to convince herself that this was wrong, that they were wrong, that now she wanted nothing more than to give in to the absolute sensation of right. When sober, her mind constantly worked against her, but drunk… being able to place blame on the rum would make it so much easier to rationalize sleeping with him.

The clasps came free and he shrugged out of the vest just as she pulled the shirt over his head. It was unfair, really, how attractive Hook was. Her hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of lean muscle that came from years of hard work, the scars that were scattered across his skin, and the hair that tapered into a dark line and descended past the waistband of his pants.

"Who cares?"

It was cold in the cabin – although she couldn't really tell how cold with the fire rushing through her – and their shallow pants created puffs of smoke in the chilly air. He'd given up on her top for the moment, content to grind his hips against hers, as she leaned forward to press her lips to the hollow of his throat before trailing a line of kisses down his chest, nipping at him and causing him to suck in a sharp breath.

As her hands drifted to the front of his pants, she felt his whole body jerk before his hand and hook settled on her shoulders and he pulled away. Her fingers dangled in the now empty air between them, mind still reeling from the combination of the alcohol and desire, but she tried to focus as he held her at arm's length.

"What's wrong?"

He was breathing heavily and seemed to struggle with the words. "I'm absolutely sure I've never said this in my life, but I think we need to stop." He gave her a grim smile that told her exactly how hard it was for him to say that.

She felt a slight stab of rejection and it caused her words to come out sounding bitter. "You don't want this?"

He gave a pained laugh. "On the contrary, love, I want this very badly." His eyes wandered over her face. "I want you more than I've wanted anything in longer than I can remember. But I'm a gentleman. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a drunken lady."

"For some reason, I find it very hard to believe you've never had drunk sex before." Of all times for him to be chivalrous, he had to choose now when she wanted nothing more than to sleep with him?

"While that is true, I don't want that with you." He released his grip on her shoulders and ran his hand through her hair. "When you decide to stop resisting me, resisting us, I want it to be a sober and willing decision. I want you to remember choosing me, I want you to remember wanting me to take you, and I want you to remember every detail of it the next morning."

Slightly angry, exhausted, and sexually frustrated beyond belief, Emma glowered at him. She was flat out drunk, could tell it by the way everything moved entirely too slow when she turned her head and how the room seemed to subtly shift around her, but that didn't change the fact that she wanted him.

"I think it's time to go to bed." He came forward, picking her up off the desk as if she weighed nothing and carrying her to the couch. In one last effort, she wrapped her legs around his waist, wound her arms around his neck, and sought his lips, but he set her down before she could reach them.

"You're a constant test of my self-control, woman."

"I don't want self-control right now." She was still attempting to chip away at his resolve even as she settled into the couch.

He chuckled and pulled the blanket over her. "Of that I am obviously, and right now somewhat painfully, aware."

Everything was catching up to Emma now, the ceiling spinning dizzily over her head, and her eyes felt so very heavy. Like whiskey, copious amounts of rum also appeared to do atrocious things to her decision-making abilities. "I'm not going to remember this in the morning, am I?" Her question was soft.

"Most likely not, love." Hook was brushing her hair away from her face soothingly. "And even if you do, I'm sure you'll deny it and go right back to resisting me."

"Mmm… only because you scare me."

He seemed confused by her confession. "And when have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?"

Her speech was starting to slur and his gentle caress was putting her to sleep. "Not scared _of_ you; scared of myself _with_ you. I'm scared to let go."

Hook said something then, but she couldn't make out the words as sleep claimed her.

One hundred ninety-nine days

The next morning, Emma awoke with a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and a full memory of what had happened the night before; the only missing piece being his last words as she'd fallen asleep. The other details burned in her mind clear as day, everything from their personal conversation to each searing kiss and touch.

However, true to Hook's word, she played dumb, pretending to remember their entire discussion but nothing past the point of her downing the last of her rum right before they kissed. Omitting the second half of the night just felt safer.

She was unsure whether he believed her when she'd told him how little she remembered.

She had a feeling he didn't.

* * *

**FYI (because I'm anticipating questions about it) – Tinkerbell said that, if they stayed in Neverland long enough, they would eventually forget everything. So even though Hook and Emma remember their secrets right now, that won't be the case forever.**

**And regarding a review from Cherry2 – I'd like to think that Emma will meet up with her parents again. I wouldn't want all that hurt between them to go on forever so an eventual reunion to smooth over the past seems possible.**

**As a side note, I'm running my first half marathon tomorrow morning – wish me luck :)**

**I appreciate each and every one of your reviews so much! Much love and thanks to you all!**


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**A Roommate and A Suitor**

"_Hark, now hear the sailor's cry – smell the sea and feel the sky – let your soul and spirit fly."_

* * *

"So, I'm really thinking we should get a place together." Ruby didn't even look up as she stated this, intent on painting her nails a bright shade of red. "I'm tired of living with Dad and August. I told him I was old enough to be on my own, but he's always so worried. Not that I can blame him, really; I mean, we do live in Tortuga."

The two barmaids were in Emma's room on the second floor of the inn. It was late, almost two in the morning, but their evening in the bar had been so hectic the girls had decided to unwind for a while upstairs with their very own bottle of wine before Ruby headed home for the night. The wine did a fantastic job at relaxing them, and now Emma sat on the bed watching as Ruby, seated on the floor, painted her fingernails.

"That's why we should live together. You'll have company and I'll get away from daddy dearest and overbearing older brother without them being too worried."

"Oh, yes, Ruby. That way both of us can get accosted at the same time." Emma was joking but at the same time, wasn't. Women were always running into some kind of trouble in Tortuga; that was the danger of living in a port town. "Living together, we're like a two-for-one deal."

Ruby waved her hand impatiently. "We'll be fine. Everyone in this town knows we can take care of ourselves."

"Yeah, when we're in a bar surrounded by drunk men that do well to walk straight. They don't really pose much of a challenge."

The brunette nodded absentmindedly as she blew on her nails. "True, but I have to get out of there. All of us living under one roof… it's just too much. I mean, really, I'm twenty-two; I shouldn't still be living with my family. And you know what they say – three's a crowd."

"I'm pretty sure that phrase only applies to dating… or sex."

"Unless that's what you're in to." Emma had heard plenty of women from the brothels talk about sleeping with either multiple men or women at the same time. "And even then, it can't be as much fun for the third person. There's always the extra person left out to watch until it's their turn."

"You talk about it like you know from experience." Ruby gave a suggestive grin as she twisted the cap back on the polish bottle and Emma waved her hands to prevent anything else from being said. "Nevermind, I don't want to know."

Finished with her nails, Ruby moved from the floor to the bed and sat by Emma. "Seriously, though, you know we would be fine. And what's more, we'd have a good time. I couldn't think of anyone better to live with."

"What about what's-his-name – Graham?"

Flopping back onto the bed dramatically, the brunette gave an exaggerated sigh. "God, he's gorgeous… but you know I can't." Ruby was notorious for one-night stands and had developed her own set of rules for dealing with the situations, the wisdom of which she'd imparted on Emma not long after they'd started working as the barmaids for The Salty Dog Inn.

"_Emma, you have to remember three things. One, men are only after one thing – sex. They want it and they can't do it very well without us so when these guys hit on you, don't let yourself get flattered because they're only on a mission."_

"_Two, never stay the night. Things can be awkward enough immediately afterwards but they're downright miserable the morning after. It's really hard to play things cool when you wake up and realize the guy's been holding you all night."_

"_Which leads to number three, keep your heart and mind out of it. If you ever go with any of these guys, keep it casual. It's just sex. You can give them your body but nothing else. Because if you do… trust me, they'll only break it."_

Very few men were able to keep Ruby's attention once the sex was over. Ten minutes; that was usually all the time it took for her to get dressed, clean up, and get the hell out. No touching, sweet-talking, or kissing was allowed because her rules were absolute. That's why the fact that she was still hung up on this Graham guy was really something.

"What is it about this guy? You've only known him for a couple months yet you're almost always thinking about him. What does he do to keep your interest?"

"Besides throwing me across his bed and having his way with me every time we're together?"

"That should be every guy you leave with; unless you do something with them that I don't."

"It's more than that. I mean, he's absolutely gorgeous and his accent his sexy as hell, which on its own is enough to get me going, but the things he did... His hands – god, Emma – his hands were incredible."

"Spare me the dirty details, please." It was pure sarcasm because Emma already knew all of the details. Ruby had a penchant for talking about every bit of her sex life, something she'd finally pulled from Emma as well.

"But really, great sex aside, he was actually a gentleman." It was surprising because not many of the men available in Tortuga could even come close to being labeled as gentlemanly. "He's never asked me to stay, almost like he knows I can't, and he always offers to walk me home afterwards."

Ruby sat there with a wistful look and a small smile that Emma had never really seen before. It was different and completely unexpected. "He sounds nice compared to the other guys we usually have to choose from."

"I like him, Emma." It came out broken, a crestfallen and disappointed whisper. "I know I shouldn't. It goes against everything I've ever told myself, but I can't help it."

Emma had been nineteen the first time she'd slept with someone. It had been an unusually slow night, which had given the guy more than enough time to talk her up at the bar. She'd ended up sleeping with him – Baelfire was his name – and they'd had a fling for a couple months before he'd up and disappeared. Ruby had warned her in the beginning not to get in over her head, but Emma had brushed it off thinking she had everything under control. She didn't realize how wrong she was until he was gone and she was heartbroken.

So yes, Emma knew from experience how scary it was to feel something more for someone else, but she could also tell how much Ruby was into this guy. And if she was actually willing to admit that she liked him… well, he might be worth pursuing.

"Why don't you give him a chance? Maybe he'll prove you wrong."

"But what if he proves me right?"

Guarding your heart was one of the most important things a person could do in Tortuga. People came and went and relationships were frivolous, insensitive things that could break a person if allowed to. Emma knew without a doubt that, no matter how Ruby felt about Graham, she'd never willingly open up to him. Instead, she would stick to her rules because the rules were safe and kept her from getting hurt.

It was time to change the subject.

"I think there are a couple bigger rooms available on the third floor." The relief in Ruby's smile was unmistakable; she wasn't ready to think too hard on this Graham guy no matter how much she liked him. "There'd be more than enough room for the both of us."

"When can we move in?"

* * *

Two hundred seventeen days

Emma sat on the lower deck, legs crossed, intently studying the length of rope in her hands, willing it to rework and tie itself into something that resembled the knot that sat in front of her as an example. With a sigh of frustration, she glanced up at the pirate that sat across from her. The pirate's name was Mullins and, of all the men aboard the Jolly Roger, he seemed the most pirate-like, if only because of his eye patch, crimson bandana, and navy and white striped attire. Ironically enough, he was also one of the nicest.

Currently, he was trying to teach her how to tie a rather complicated sailing knot. The long piece of rope was wound around itself multiple times in multiple directions, looped at the end so it could be attached to a hook, and then twisted around itself a few more times for good measure. To Emma, it just looked like a confusing mess.

"I'll show you again, milady."

None of the pirates, excluding Hook, knew of her royal background, but they'd always insisted on calling her either milady or lass. Thinking of Hook's various pet names, she was inclined to think that avoiding a person's given name was just a pirate thing.

Surprisingly enough, Hook had taken her confession of being a princess in stride; Emma could remember telling someone before – a fleeting image of long brunette hair and red lips – and getting a very different reaction. It had been a while now since that particular night, but Hook had made few mentions of their talk, which she supposed also had something to do with him not particularly wanting his confession brought up again.

Emma tried to pay attention as Mullins worked at the knot, but her eyes kept straying up to Hook who stood at the helm.

He'd loved her – Milah. Loved her enough to spend three hundred years in Neverland in search of a way to avenge her. That kind of devotion was hard to find and was especially surprising to have appeared in a pirate. She'd always imagined him to be just… well, Hook. Pirate captain, scourge of the seas, plundering and marauding and generally causing mayhem wherever he went. And he _was_ that, the pirate that she imagined him to be.

But before that, he'd been Killian Jones.

A pirate captain that plundered and marauded and caused mayhem… all with a woman he loved by his side. Until he lost her.

Emma was still staring when his eyes found hers and he gave her a roguish smile followed by a wink, completely unaware of how deeply she was thinking about him.

"Alright, lass, your turn."

Mullins had finished and was now looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to attempt the knot again. She worked with the rope, looping it and tying it in the same manner Mullins had done, but when it came to the end and she pulled the rope tight, it all unraveled in her hands. A laugh came from the direction of the helm, which she pointedly ignored.

"Don't worry, you'll get it next time." With a chuckle, Mullins stood up and walked off and Emma threw the failed knot to the side with a glower. It really wasn't necessary for her to know that knot; she'd just been curious; she was still coming up with excuses for her failure when she heard a voice behind her.

"Mother!"

Bloody hell… there were only a few people that would call her mother and only one that would have been able to get to the ship floating in the middle of the sea.

Emma turned to the voice and saw Peter Pan. His hair was windswept, eyes bright, and there was a beaming smile on his face as he floated a few inches above the deck. "Mother, we've missed you! Now that you're done making silly knots, will you come play with us?"

She'd happened across Pan and his Lost Boys a few times since their first encounter, although they now seemed to understand that kidnapping her wasn't the best way to get her to go with them. Now, they seemed resigned to simply try and spend time with her, although that might only be because Hook was nearby in all their reunions, a constant reminder and natural deterrent of kidnapping. However, they never stopped asking.

"I can't go with you, Pan; I have to stay here."

He stuck out his tongue childishly and frowned. "You _never_ play with us anymore." Really, it had only been one time. She'd spent an afternoon teaching them a game that involved hitting a coconut with a stick and then running around four bases, and since then they'd begged her to show them more. "Is it because you're trying to find a way home?"

What?

She'd meant she needed to stay aboard the ship with Hook, but images flashed through her mind at Pan's question. A shining palace where there was a blonde man with a nice smile and a dark-haired woman with a gentle hug. A dimly-lit room filled with men and the smell of alcohol. A small bedroom where a girl talked and laughed.

What was home? Wasn't Neverland her home?

"The longer you stay in Neverland, the more you forget. Stay here long enough and you'll forget everything from before you came. Then you'll never want to go home, and you'll stay here forever playing games, and you'll be just like us – one of the Lost Boys. Only not a Lost Boy because you're Mother."

It had only meant to be a short visit. Save her life, show her a few places in Neverland, and then leave. But how long had they been here now? One of the crewmembers had been keeping track, notching the days out on an old piece of driftwood, but she'd never paid much attention to it.

"So are you ready to play? You can teach us a new game." He was reaching for her hand, but she pulled away absentmindedly.

"Jukes, get that boy off the ship." It seemed Hook had finally noticed Pan at the head of the ship.

She was still confused, trying to figure out what was more real, these faint images that seemed almost like memories or Neverland. "Not… not today."

"Oh ok, maybe next time. Bye, Mother!" With a mischievous grin, Peter flew up into the air and away towards the island before the pirate could even come close. As she watched him go, she felt all traces of their conversation drift away like smoke until she couldn't really remember what it was they'd been talking about.

Two hundred forty-six days

"This is all your fault, Hook."

"And how, exactly, is this _my_ fault, love?"

"If you hadn't offended Tiger Lily, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"Offended her? The only way to avoid that would have been to sleep with her."

Hook had turned to her at the accusations but Emma stubbornly looked the other way. Or at least as far as she could considering she and Hook were firmly secured to two wooden posts and couldn't move very much.

_The day had started out normally enough. Emma had spent the morning alternating between fishing and helping the crew scrub the decks before deciding to climb up to the crow's nest. It was a small area with barely enough room for one person and was ridiculously high, making the climb more than little perilous, but it offered spectacular views and something that was very hard to come by on the pirate-laden ship – privacy._

_She had been leaning on the edge of the box when the ship rounded a bluff and she spotted it – the Neverland Plains. It was a part of the island she had yet to explore. She'd clambered back down the rigging, nearly falling multiple times in her haste, to ask if they could go ashore, and Hook had agreed, dropping anchor and rowing the two of them in on the small rowboat._

_They'd only been in the grassland for a few minutes when they came across a young woman. Dark brown hair plaited in two braids that fell over each shoulder, fringed animal skin dress, blue headband with what looked like an eagle feather stuck in the back… she was lovely. It looked like she'd been collecting grains when she noticed them and stood up, looking startled, her eyes wide._

_Emma had still been debating on whether or not she would flee when the woman ran up to Hook and kissed him. _

_It shouldn't have shocked her, really. Hook was a pirate and, although they'd never talked about it in detail, she wasn't naïve enough to assume that he hadn't shared his bed with plenty of women. She just wasn't expecting to find one here in Neverland._

_The girl's arms were wrapped around Hook's neck and she was kissing him passionately, but his eyes were opened wide and Emma thought that at least he had the decency to look surprised. She tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted because she was not jealous. _

_Nope. _

_Not at all._

_After a moment, the girl pulled away and began to jabber incessantly in a foreign language that Emma couldn't follow. Hook was still staring at the girl, seemingly frozen, as she talked and gestured and touched him – why was she touching him? – before moving in to kiss him once more._

_For the love of…_

_Emma sighed, cocking her eyebrow at the display. Finally, Hook grabbed the girl's shoulders and pulled away, instantly finding Emma's eyes and giving her what looked like an apologetic smirk. She spent some time pondering how on earth he could make a smirk even look apologetic – because, really, they were completely different expressions – before realizing the native girl was glaring at her, face twisted in an ugly scowl, obviously upset at losing Hook's attention._

_Without warning, she turned back to Hook and began to shout at him all while hitting at his chest angrily and pointing at Emma. The commotion didn't last long because it turned out that the girl was Tiger Lily, daughter of the chieftain, and had guards who came running at her yells._

The Indians' spears pricking uncomfortably at their throats had quickly convinced them to surrender, and they'd been bound, drug back to camp, and secured to posts where they'd been now for about thirty minutes. A large group of the natives huddled some distance away, speaking in the same foreign language and gesturing towards the two prisoners, and Emma wondered what was taking them so long to do… whatever they were going to do with them.

"Do you have any idea what they're saying?"

"Hmm…" He paused for a moment, listening. "I think they're trying to figure out how best to sacrifice us to the Neverbird."

"What?!" Her frantic hiss drew the attention of the natives; the group of them all turned to look at her curiously. Hook just ignored the attention they were receiving and chuckled.

"I'm only joking, love; they gave up on sacrifices centuries ago." The statement wasn't very reassuring at all. "To be honest, I can't understand very much of it; I can only pick out a word here and there. They shouldn't hurt us, though. I have somewhat of a history with the Indians."

She thought of Tiger Lily's welcome home present and then promptly decided _not_ to think about it. "When we get out of here I'm going to kill you." She gave him a withering glare and made another attempt to wiggle out of her bonds, twisting her hands to try and slide them through the rope. It was a futile attempt, though; centuries stuck in Neverland had obviously given the natives plenty of time to perfect their prisoner-binding technique.

"You can try."

"I can succeed."

"I look forward to you _trying_." The emphasis on the word made her scowl. "It's been a while since we've practiced. What kind of instructor would I be if I didn't check up on how my favorite student was doing?"

"I'm your only student."

"Aye, and, therefore, my favorite."

Good lord…

"Actually, I really am eager to see how you've come along since our last lesson." Emma didn't even have to look at him to know he was smirking; she could hear it in his voice.

"What, so you can tell me how sloppy my form has become?"

"We don't have to spar for me to know that you have stunning _form_, love."

"Really?" She stared at him, incredulous. "We're captives in an Indian camp with no idea of what they're going to do to us and you're flirting?"

He just shrugged, clearly more at ease with the entire situation than she was. "I've never been one to waste a good moment. You know, seize the day and all that." That, she knew from experience, was a very true statement.

Suddenly, a large, booming voice drew her attention back to the natives in front of her and she watched as they parted to reveal a giant of a man. Easily reaching seven feet with an elaborate bear skin draped over his shoulders and all manner of beads and feathers braided into his hair, this man was obviously the chieftain.

"Hail, sea chief."

Sea chief?

It fit, in an odd sort of way, seeing how Hook was the only person in Neverland with a ship. The Indians had canoes – she'd seen them fishing in Cannibal Cove before – but nothing that came close to the size of the Jolly Roger. The Indian chief evidently recognized Hook as head of the Neverland waters.

"Hail, Great Big Little Panther."

Everyone was silent as the man stared at Hook. "You disappear, stay gone for many moons. But we know when the sea chief returns because he always brings trouble." There was a playful look in the Indian's eyes that began to quell the nervous feeling in Emma's stomach. "Tiger Lily is not happy with your new woman."

"She's not my woman."

What a hypocrite... She conveniently belonged to Hook when children were trying to kidnap her, but when another woman was involved, she was nobody. It was frustrating how much she had to convince herself not to be bothered by all of this; more than frustrating, to be honest. But Emma was stubborn and refused to care; she could care less about Hook and his sordid past. Really.

"No?" Great Big Little Panther looked surprised before glancing to the row of natives that stood behind him. "That is good news. Little Leaf, cut them down."

A small boy moved from the edge of the circle to come behind the posts, cutting away the ropes that bound Hook before moving to her. Having her arms secured above her head had decreased her blood flow and caused a resulting numbness; finally free, she spent the next few moments trying to massage away the tingling feeling as her blood began to flow normally again.

The Indian chief made a motion and another man stepped forward to stand beside him. The man was attractive in a completely different way than Hook. Tall, dark hair with a feather that hung by his ear, powerfully built, nice smile. She also didn't fail to notice that he was shirtless, his impressive chest and abs almost seemed to ripple in the firelight.

"My sister's son, Wind Runner, has taken an interest in the girl with the golden hair." Great Big Little Panther gestured first to the man beside him and then to Emma. "He wishes to claim her as his woman."

Son of a bitch.

It seemed this wasn't what Hook had been expecting either, meeting her startled expression with one of his own. "With all due respect, she's not available to be claimed." Well at least he was making an attempt to rescue her after apparently throwing her to the dogs.

The Indian just laughed. "That is not your decision, sea chief. But the girl will have a say." Thank the gods for that. "Come, let's go to the fire. We'll talk over food."

It was a hearty meal, some kind of stew that warmed and relaxed her instantly, and she gave Hook a small smile when she noticed him watching her from across the fire. She was sitting with the women of the tribe, them having snagged her hands and pulled her away from Hook on the way to the fire, while he sat opposite her with the men. The separation had made her nervous at first, but Hook had given her a reassuring look that clearly said not to worry.

The women were friendly, taking turns fawning over her skin, clothes, and hair, and Emma was reminded that, although they had seen Hook and his crew multiple times, they had never seen any women in Neverland other than those in their own tribe. When they'd finished eating, her bowl was collected by one of the small children and the women moved in to crowd around her.

"Wind Runner is great man."

The woman that spoke – she'd heard someone call her Star Catcher – pulled out a pouch and emptied the contents to the ground, beads of every color falling out, along with an array of bird feathers. When hands begin to work through her hair, Emma realized the women's intentions.

"Would make good husband."

Apparently, the whole tribe knew of her supposed engagement.

As beads and feathers were braided into her hair, she watched some of the men pull drums of all different sizes from the nearby tents. They began to play an energetic, rapid beat that seemed perfect with the dark sky and the flickering fire as its only background. The Indians were yelling and dancing around the fire in jumping and twisting movements, and the pounding of the drums seemed to vibrate her very bones she watched them, entranced.

She had never experienced anything like this in her life. The only time she'd ever played music or danced had been within the palace walls where they were elegant, restrained activities. There was none of that restraint here. Everything seemed so wild and natural and untamed.

Her eyes drifted to Hook, still seated on the other side of the fire, and Emma frowned when she noticed Tiger Lily lounging beside him. Hook was smiling and talking to her, and the Indian princess' hand reached out to touch Hook's arm as they both laughed at whatever had been said. The slight irritation she felt – at herself for feeling anything at all and at Hook just because – was what pushed her to accept Wind Runner's proffered hand when he requested she come dance.

It really wasn't so bad; to be completely honest, it was quite fun and an excellent way to clear her mind. With a tight hold on her hand, Wind Runner pulled her around the fire, spinning and jumping and yelping until she was pleasantly winded and smiling widely. With the drums beating and the heat of the fire and her heart pounding, she felt so alive. It was some time before Wind Runner pulled her away from the fire to a shadowed spot between the tents; they were still within the light of the fire, but only just, and were a little more secluded.

Wind Runner came to a stop and turned to face her, a smile on his face. "If you were born of our tribe, we would have called you Spirited Dancer. But what is your name, otekah?"

"Whoa… what does otekah mean?" The word sounded strange coming from her mouth and he laughed at her attempt.

"Oteka. Sun maiden." Most likely because of her hair.

"My name's Emma Swan."

"Ah, then you are not otekah, you are magaskawee." She stared at him, confused, and he explained. "Graceful swan maiden."

He took a step closer, one of his hands touching lightly at her waist while the other ghosted over the feathers and beads scattered through her hair. It was crazy, really, how much he reminded her of Hook in that moment. They were completely different but, at the same time, so much alike. She had to say, though, that Wind Runner's close proximity didn't scatter her thoughts the same way Hook's did, even if his impressively sculpted torso tried.

"You will make pretty wife." He was smiling down at her with one of the most sincere smiles she'd ever seen. "And the sea chief explained how you are great hunter." Unbidden, her eyes found Hook. He was still seated at the fire, albeit alone now, watching them, and she wished this little moment was occurring somewhere Hook couldn't see them because his cocked eyebrow was making her very uncomfortable.

"I'm ok. Nothing really special." She tried to brush off the compliment, never having been one to like the attention.

"You are special. Would be a great woman in tribe. You will stay?"

And she knew what he was asking. He had that slightly hopeful look in his eyes and his mouth was curled up in a small smile and his fingers were touching her cheek affectionately, but Emma's eyes strayed to the pirate once more.

"I'm sorry, Wind Runner, but I can't accept your proposal." It was unlikely that he understood the word proposal, but he really didn't have to; the message was clear. Her heart twisted a little at the way his face fell.

"You do not wish to stay in the plains with me?"

Ugh… he was so nice and she felt like such a jerk. "It's not that…"

"Is it other man? The sea chief?" Oh boy. A fierce expression came over his face. "I will fight him for your hand if it make you happy." It was almost flattering knowing he was willing to fight for her; she couldn't say that about many other people in her life.

"No, there's no need to… um, fight… or anything. It's nothing to do with the sea chief." She once again wondered if she was also trying to convince herself. "I'm just not ready to settle down yet."

Wind Runner looked at her for a moment with a mixture of confusion and disappointment, before he leaned forward. Their foreheads touched, although there was none of the pressure she usually felt when she was in similar situations with Hook, and his hands held hers, bringing them to his chest. The gesture was simple, almost comforting.

"Then I will wait for you, kiwidinok. I will wait until you are ready."

And it sounded romantic even though she had no idea what kiwidinok meant.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Emma sat and talked with some girls her age – or who would've been her age if they were who-knows-how-many years old – and even took a pull from a peace pipe that was being passed around the tribe. It was the first time she'd ever smoked anything in her life, and based on the awful coughing fit and the unbearable tightness in her lungs that followed, it would also be her last.

The moon was high in the sky when Hook finally came to her and suggested they head back to the ship. After bidding farewell to Great Big Little Panther, thanking him for the evening and his hospitality, they made their way through the grassland towards the Jolly Roger. Hook walked close to her, his arm lightly brushing hers a couple times. It was unnecessary, really seeing how there was a whole freaking grassland for him to walk through, but she didn't move away.

"I'm crushed you didn't save me a dance, love."

Hook had been talking to Tiger Lily at the time; knowing she'd caught his attention gave her a smug, satisfied feeling. "You know, I have a really hard time picturing you dancing around a fire." Which was a very true statement. She had a hard time imagining him dancing at all.

"Aye, I'll admit, it's not my forte. Although I have been told I'm quite good at a waltz."

Surprised, she turned to him. "A waltz? What use is a waltz to a pirate?"

"I have to have some way to sweep a princess off her feet." And even though it was a sensitive subject, she was feeling so good that she couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, you'll just have to prove that sometime."

Hook flirted with her on an almost daily basis, had ever since they'd first met. Most of the time, she turned him down – even though the slight chuckles and smiles he always seemed to pull from her probably contradicted anything she could say – but occasionally she couldn't help but flirt back. It was dangerous, though. She had to keep a level head or it would be far too easy to…

"Why Miss Swan, are you agreeing to have a dance with me?" He glanced at her, his tone innocent but obviously teasing her.

"I am agreeing to – one day – judge whether or not you can waltz as good as you say."

"Because you're an expert at waltzing."

"I'll have you know, I was taught all manner of dance from the best instructors in seven kingdoms." Emma put as much snootiness into the phrase as she could. "_I_ am an excellent dancer."

"Well then I look forward to being judged by you." When he flashed a self-assured smirk, she felt her breath hitch and attempted to cover it up by rolling her eyes and looking away from him.

They walked in silence for a moment before her mouth blatantly disobeyed her brain. "So you and Tiger Lily." The fact that she brought it up at all contradicted any effort on her part to sound casual and uncaring and she felt like kicking herself.

"So you and Wind Runner."

So they were going to play that game.

Both stubbornly quiet, the silence seemed to stretch out thick in the air between them before Hook blew out a loud breath and spoke. "We met when I was here during the three hundred year stretch, came across her in a field much like we did today. I'd just lost Milah… I was angry and hurting and she was attractive and willing." Emma hadn't meant to watch him as he explained but she did; he wouldn't meet her eyes, though. "It was never supposed to be anything more than just sex."

"I may be reading too much into it, but it sure seems like she took it as more than just casual sex."

"It was just sex for me."

It sounded harsh and uncaring, but she could hear the unspoken words between the lines – _she doesn't mean anything to me _– and felt reassured. She didn't know how to classify what was going on between Hook and herself, tried not to think about it, but she couldn't deny the connection she felt with him. They'd spent too much time together, gone through too much, for there _not_ to be a connection.

"So you and Wind Runner." Emma couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone.

"Not much to say. He wanted me to stay with him to be his woman, called me some pretty names, but I told him I couldn't. Oh and you're welcome, by the way." Hook looked at her, confused. "At first he thought you were the reason I was turning him down and was prepared to fight you for me, but I convinced him otherwise."

"You're sure I wasn't the reason?" He smirked suggestively, to which she raised her eyebrow haughtily, denying it without even speaking. "Many thanks for saving my skin, milady. What would I do with you?"

"Probably get yourself into all kinds of trouble." And he chuckled. "Do you know what kiwidinok means?"

She hadn't been meaning to ask, mostly because she wasn't sure if Hook would even know, but his startled expression told her he did. "He called you that?" The surprise was already gone, his face schooled into a more casual appearance. "It's a very strong phrase among the Indians; means woman of the wind."

She'd been right – it was romantic.

"I wouldn't call you that, though."

Emma stopped walking and turned to him, slightly offended. "And why not?"

"Calm down, love. To the natives, a woman of the wind is one that wants to be free, doesn't want to be tied down." Hook took a couple slow steps to stand directly in front of her, raising his hook to touch a cluster of beads in her hair, and she shivered involuntarily when the cool metal brushed against her ear. "There are no secrets between us anymore, and I know enough about you now to know that you exemplify that statement."

Trying to ignore the mild fluttering in her stomach at his words and actions, Emma raised an eyebrow. "So then why wouldn't you call me that?"

"Because I would call you something else."

The words were murmured as he leaned forward. Emma waited for the kiss, but when he hesitated, leaving a few inches between their lips, she realized he wanted her to be the one to kiss him. Every time they'd kissed, it had been by his action; the only exception being the night of their conversation, the one she pretended not to remember. But this was her choice now – kiss him or back away – and there was nothing she could use to rationalize it. No alcohol, no raging hormones, no passion from just having shared their pasts. This would simply be Emma wanting to kiss Hook.

He waited there, not pushing her to make the move nor holding her in place. Her heart hammered in her chest, quick started simply by Hook's presence; he elicited reactions from her that Wind Runner could never hope to replicate. But even so…

"What would you call me?"

She was a coward. Afraid of her emotions, still too scared to let go with him, she'd taken the out he'd offered, given in to her flight instinct. With a somewhat disappointed quirk of his lips, he straightened, giving her the space she both wanted and didn't want.

"I'll tell you… someday."

And then his back was to her and he was walking down the path again to the Jolly Roger.

* * *

**Happy (late) Thanksgiving!**

**I searched for quite a while to find the perfect Native American words to use in this chapter. Consequently, they don't all come from the same group of Indians because I had a specific idea of things I wanted.**

**I also took the liberty of making Tiger Lily older because otherwise her and Hook together would've been all kinds of wrong – and, in parts of our world, illegal.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**A Recurring Dream and A Commitment**

"_Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste – as it keeps my heart and soul in its place – and I will love with urgency but not with haste."_

* * *

Emma's heart was pounding when she awoke with a start.

It was a comfortable night, the kind where the windows could be kept open and it not be too hot or too cold, but when she ran a hand over her face, she could feel the clammy sweat that had beaded across her forehead. Throwing back the covers, she walked over to sit on the window seat; there was no way she'd be able to go back to sleep now. The breeze drifting in was cool and slowly helped to calm her still-anxious nerves. As far back as she could remember, Emma had been having the dream.

It would always start out with a blur of colors, everything swirling together. There were voices, and although all of their words were muffled and indistinguishable, they sounded scared. And there was another voice, an angry one, filled with malice, and when it laughed cruelly she always had the urge to cry. Then a bright light would slice through the blur of colors and she could feel nothing but pain. Everything hurt so badly and she could hear someone crying and yelling and then… she'd wake up.

The same dream, every time.

It was still early, the sky just starting to lighten, so Emma was the first one to the breakfast table, but the cooks had been awake for hours already and had food ready to serve when she arrived. Eggs, ham, sausage, bacon, oatmeal, pancakes drizzled with honey, an array of fruits, juices of every kind; meals in the royal palace were never anything short of extravagant. Still feeling uneasy, Emma settled on a piece of toast with jelly and was still nibbling at it absentmindedly when her father walked in.

"Good morning, darling. Sleep well?"

"Yes and no. I had the dream."

Her father paused and glanced at her before resuming filling his plate. "That silly one again? You know, I had a recurring dream when I was a child, too; almost every night. In the dream, I would always be running in the woods, playing a game…"

Emma tuned her father out. Her parents had always blown off the dream, claiming it to just be her childlike imagination and that it would fade in time.

"… and then it turned out to just be a lump of spoiled cheese. So, you see, there's really nothing to these dreams. They're just nonsense."

She wanted to believe that, wanted it more than anything.

"I suppose you're right, Dad."

But it was weird… the dream just felt so real.

Almost like it was a memory.

* * *

Two hundred seventy-one days

Morning

Hook had decided earlier that morning that today was the day they would attempt to steal a treasure from the mermaids. It was a shell, one that he'd found and hidden at Skull Rock during his earlier time in Neverland only to find out now that the mermaids had stolen it. The plan went beautifully, and the crew had cheered victoriously, holding the shell aloft, as Hook navigated them back to the open waters of the Neversea.

It really was a gorgeous shell; iridescent shades of opal, lilac, and pink swirled through the object that was nearly as big as her head. Emma had just placed the shell in the cabin when something collided with the ship, the subsequent rocking forcing her to grab the shelves to remain steady while several items in the room fell to the floor.

Hurriedly, she made her way back on deck, but as soon as she stepped out of the cabin, all she could hear was singing. Numerous heads poked out of the sea around the ship; apparently, the mermaids had discovered their stolen shell and had come after the pirates. Their song was loud, a plaintive and mournful sound that rang in her ears and blocked out any other noise, and most of the men stumbled around with hands covering their ears in a desperate attempt to block the singing.

Feeling a sudden shot of panic, Emma looked around desperately for Hook and found him at the bow, swinging his cutlass at a mermaid that clung to the side of the ship. She ran forward, reaching him just as he bested the creature, knocking it back into the sea. When he turned to her, she vaguely noticed a smear of blood across his cheek – it didn't seem to be his – and the distracted look in his eyes.

"_Their siren song is like a drug to a man's thoughts… I've seen many a man succumb to a mermaid's cry; jump into the ocean only to be pulled to his death."_

Understanding flooded through her as Hook shook his head, trying to ward off the influence of the singing, but there was a glassy look to his eyes as his body turned involuntarily towards the side of the ship, towards the mermaids that wished to drag him to his death. Jumping to action, Emma grabbed the back of his shirt just as he reached for the railing and pulled, jerking him hard and throwing him off balance. They stumbled for a moment before falling, Hook landing heavily on top of her.

Under normal circumstances, the suggestive pirate would have made any number of comments on their compromising situation. The fact that he remained silent and seemingly unaware of the fact he was laying on her – his head was already starting to turn wistfully towards the singing – worried her. She felt him move, begin to pull away from her as if to stand up, and reacted; without thinking, she kissed him.

Later, she would maintain that it was just an attempt to divert him and keep him from jumping to his death, but he would insist that there were plenty of other ways she could have distracted him. Either way, it worked. Noticing his eyes clear and refocus, Emma ended the kiss and, ignoring the roguish look he gave her, pushed him away and stood up. Ripping a strip from her shirttail, she held it out to Hook.

"Put this in your ears!" She knew she was yelling but couldn't hear anything except the singing; Hook seemed to get the idea, though, grabbing for the material and stuffing it in his ears. His mouth moved – she couldn't make out the words – and then he was motioning behind her.

Hands grabbed at the railings all around the ship and began to reveal the mermaids as they pulled themselves up and over, flopping to the deck and crawling towards the men. Several of them had acted similarly to Emma; she could see colored fabric jammed in most of their ears. Based on their still-pained expressions, it didn't block the noise completely, but it must have been just enough to clear their minds and allow them to fight back because most of them faced the creatures with swords drawn and at the ready.

Hook moved past her to join his men on deck and Emma watched for a moment as he fought against the mermaids. The way he moved, swinging and lunging… it was almost beautiful, in a morbid sort of way. Distracted by the sight, she didn't even notice the mermaid behind her until she was being tackled. With a muffled grunt, Emma fell to the deck.

Mermaids were dangerous creatures; Hook had told her that once. At that time, the half-women had been lazing about on the rocks of Mermaids' Lagoon, splashing their fins playfully and singing out to the men aboard the Jolly Roger. Although she could still remember the tense clenching of Hook's jaw, she'd had a hard time believing them to be brutal. They just seemed so… innocent. Flirty, but innocent.

With a clawed hand grasping for her throat and a mouth full of pointed teeth in her face, Emma was very quickly reconsidering her earlier assessment.

One of the mermaid's hands clasped around her right wrist, forcing her sword away, while the other pricked at her throat, the pointed claws itching to tear through her flesh. Abandoning the natural instinct that had told her to push the mermaid away, she twisted beneath the creature. Reaching her free hand down between them, she felt the wet fabric of her pants and the sharp edges of scales before her fingers slipped into her boot, grasping the knife she kept hidden there.

She'd be damned if she were to die by a fish.

The mermaid screamed – a horrible, wailing sound – as Emma plunged the small blade into the creature's side again and again. And then it was thrashing, almost crushing her as it flopped around. The mermaid released Emma's hand, twisting away from her, and claws scrambled and tore at the deck as it made for the edge of the ship and the safety of the water.

Lurching to her feet, Emma made to follow the creature when its fin slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, and she watched in horror as her short sword skidded across the deck. The deck was slick with water from the mermaids' bodies, and the constant rocking of the Jolly Roger caused the blade to slip closer and closer to the edge of the ship. She staggered towards the sword, almost crashing into Mullins as he ran towards another of the mermaids, and pitched forward, falling to the deck once again to grab it just before it fell over the side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Emma was surprised to actually hear it. The water surrounding the ship was smooth and flat; all of the mermaids that had remained out there seemed to have ceased their singing and retreated, leaving only those aboard the ship. Without their song vibrating through her head, she could now hear the men's enthused yells as they began to fight with renewed vigor.

Emma scanned the crew, searching for a glimpse of the telltale black attire, and breathing another sigh when she spotted him in the midst of the mêlée, but then she was being tugged backwards, a vice-like grip around her ankle. Instincts kicking in, she kicked violently with her other foot and heard the satisfying crunch of bone as her boot made contact. The hold on her ankle loosened after the blow and she rolled to better face her assailant and kicked once more, making another direct hit.

Blood streamed from the mermaid's nose and mouth as it hissed, a ferocious and murderous expression on its face. It grabbed her other ankle, pulling her forward, and began to crawl over her legs, but Emma swung the sword and a red line appeared across the mermaid's chest before warm blood spilled over her legs.

It screamed much like the other one, an echoing noise that sounded like it was being heard underwater, and grabbed for Emma, claws ripping through her shirt. With the adrenaline fueling her movements, Emma pulled back before shoving her sword deep into the creature's body. More blood poured onto her, soaking into her – most likely – ruined clothing as she yanked the sword back out, and the mermaid collapsed with one last gurgling hiss.

"Bloody hell."

There was no one around to even hear her, but she felt like it needed to be said anyway because killing a mermaid was not at all something she'd been expecting to do today and the whole situation still seemed a little surreal. Emma continued to lay there under the dead weight for a moment as her heart slowed. The fight was over; the only sounds that remained were those of the men talking with each other and the occasional splash of what she assumed to be dead mermaids being thrown back into the water.

"Emma?" It was faint at first, but then the call came louder. "Emma?"

She lifted her hand feebly to motion that she was ok; the energy that had been fueling her body during the attack had seeped away now and left her feeling tired and weak. Hook shoved at the mermaid, pushing it over the side of the ship, before he leaned over her.

"You alright, love?"

"I'm fine." He still had that smear of blood on his face; she reached up to touch a finger to it. "You?"

It was a tight-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless. "The blood's not mine. It'll take more than a fish to kill me."

"Figures." Gradually, she drew back her hand, the red liquid staining the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, Hook began to remove his shirt and Emma's eyes opened wide, some of that energy coming back quite suddenly. "What are you doing?"

He motioned to her clothing and a single glance revealed the reason for his actions. "I don't particularly think you care to have the whole crew see your… assets."

The mermaid's claws had shredded through most of her shirt, and while she was still mostly covered for the moment, that would not be the case if she were to stand up. She accepted his proffered shirt and slid it on backwards; there was no way for her to put in on properly without exposing some part of herself. Sitting up slowly, clothing pressed firmly to her chest, she looked past Hook – she did _not_ ogle his bare torso – to survey the state of the ship.

It was a mess, but reparable.

And, miraculously, everyone seemed to be alive.

Her attention drifted back to Hook when she felt his hand against her back. It seemed the mermaid had also torn through the back of her shirt since she could feel his skin against hers. "Let's get you cleaned up, love."

Back in his cabin, Hook had given her a cursory once over – he'd insisted he was only checking for injuries, but she wasn't quite sure that was the whole truth – and offered to help her dress before she'd kicked him out with a chuckle. She ripped off the remains of her top and dropped her blood-soaked pants; they would both need to be tossed. Digging out an extra pair of trousers, she redressed, and took a moment to notice how soft and warm Hook's shirt was and how it smelled exactly like him.

Two hundred seventy-one days

Night

Emma leaned back against the mast, smiling as she watched the crew of the Jolly Roger and sipped at her tankard of rum. Some of the crew played on various instruments, as best as they could considering they were well on their way to being flat-out drunk, while others sang sea chanties – songs of escapades, heroics, women, and rum.

Typical pirates.

The singing trailed off in a drunken slur as the current song came to an end and Emma couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous they all sounded. Her laugh, however, caught the men's attention, Starkey loudly exclaiming that they should sing to her honor as she was the only woman on board and had managed to slay one of the mermaids.

"Oh no, please don't!" But they'd already started into some god-awful rendition that made her cringe in embarrassment for those singing it as much as herself. They were going on about the speed of her sword when Hook sauntered up to her.

"This is humiliating."

"Well, you can't really blame them… you were quite impressive." She felt a slight tug on her sleeve. "I don't know why I ever allowed you to wear anything other than my clothing, love." Emma still sported the shirt he'd given her earlier that day. "They look far better on you than on me."

She highly doubted that; Hook looked pretty damn good in anything… or nothing. Her mind readily supplied an image of him shirtless that she tried not to focus on too much.

"Don't get used to it. As soon as my other clothes are dry, you'll have your shirt back."

"You should keep it."

She gave him a dubious look. "Don't even try it. You only want me to keep wearing it because your plunging necklines reveal quite a bit more than my normal attire."

"I hate to say it, love, but your shirts aren't exactly modest. That green top – the loose one; when the wind blows just right you can almost see…"

"Hook!" Emma cut him off and he laughed at her exclamation. "Seeing how you're a gentleman, I know you'd never do anything as undignified as try to look down my blouse."

"Yes, trying to sneak peeks could be considered rather deceptive. Bad form; not gentlemanly at all. That's why I forego the deception and simply stare outright." And he gave that deadly wink and smirk combination that got her every time.

Turning away from him to look at the crew, she shook her head in mock exasperation and laughed for a moment. "Hook, you're hopeless. All the swagger and insinuations… you're going to get yourself in trouble one of these days." Her laugh trailed off into a moment of silence before he responded.

"I'm already in trouble."

The exchange shifted rapidly, and her head turned sharply at the sudden change in his voice, all traces of the playful banter gone. Regroup, Emma. She needed to lighten the conversation again before it turned into… well, something.

"Well, I highly doubt any fathers of the countless women you've slept with have found their way to Neverland, so I think it's safe to say we're nowhere near trouble right now."

Ignoring her facetious tone of voice, Hook stepped towards her and the hair on the back of her neck stood up as the distance between the decreased. He stopped in front of her and gently traced his fingers up her arm before they settled at her waist.

"That's not what I meant."

And she knew that.

What was it about him that made her want to ignore everything she'd ever known, everything she'd taught herself? What was it about him that drew her in? His looks had caught her attention and his charm had gained her companionship, but he – every part of him – had secured her affection. He pulled at her very being the way a mermaid's song pulled at a man. The thought of him simultaneously thrilled her and terrified her.

"Trouble is what scares me."

It was a whisper and after uttering the words it was hard to meet his gaze and she found herself looking at anything else… his hair, his lips, his chest. Pressing his hook under her jaw, the cool metal forced her eyes back to his. They were dark, so very dark. She recognized that look; had seen it in his eyes and had felt it in hers too many times to count.

When his focus dipped down to her lips, she moved; putting a hand against his chest to push him back, to stop what she knew he wanted – what she wanted. Only this time, instead of pushing him away, her hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

Hook paused in surprise at the change, eyes flickering down to see the tension in her hand as it grasped at him. Emma also stared at her hand in disbelief. It was apparently a traitorous appendage, grabbing for him instead of pushing him away as she'd intended it to do. The air began to almost crackle around them, the atmosphere having gone from light to gray to dark in mere seconds.

"Emma."

It was a whisper. A whisper of a whisper, so soft she could barely hear it. But she did hear it and it was multi-layered and full of so many different tones. Admiration, longing, regret, desire… she wasn't sure how that many different emotions could fit into such a softly spoken word.

Hook dipped his head, then, brushing his lips lightly across hers. It couldn't even be counted as a kiss as he never made full contact, but it was still so sensual her breath hitched. She was used to him being forward, could handle him better when he was surrounded by the cloud of smirks and innuendos, but she'd never managed to get a hold on this other side of him; this still and quiet side was a hell of a lot harder to ward off.

His hooked hand left her chin, moving to her waist, only to be replaced by his hand. It tangled in her hair while his thumb traced across her cheekbone, stroking it lightly as he held her gaze and began to walk them backward until her back pushed up against the mast.

They were hidden from the crew's sight now, the moonlight illuminating the deck, shining on either side of the mast and casting them into shadow. Emma was most likely as grateful as Hook to be away from the crew's prying eyes because, despite him being the captain, she knew the men pestered him constantly about her, giving him grief over his determined – and so far futile – conquest for her.

He leaned into her, nudging her legs apart and pushing his knee between them. The night was cool but he was so hot she could feel it radiating from him even with the layers of clothing between them, could feel the heat licking at the hands she now had fisted in the fabric at his hips.

"Emma."

He murmured her name again and this time she could feel the movement against her lips. Her heart was racing, breaths coming shallow and quick now. She wanted him to kiss her so bad and at the same time hated that he could make her feel this way. The feather-light caresses were driving her crazy – damn it, she needed more – but he refused to do anything more than lightly brush his lips against hers.

His hand lowered, gliding down her neck to press his thumb to her rapid pulse, as he shifted his body against hers, the friction causing her to suck in a harsh breath, before pressing into her more firmly. She could feel him against her thigh, could feel how bad he wanted her. With a breathy exhale, her head fell back against the mast.

Hook moved then, the sudden access to her neck too great a temptation to pass up. He pressed his lips just below her left ear, kissing her gently, before moving down her neck, nipping and licking and sucking at her skin. The stars above her shone brightly but she didn't really see them, too overwhelmed with the feeling of his mouth on her. She distantly heard the sound of him digging his hook into the wooden mast, giving him leverage to pull himself against her as he shifted upwards, dragging his body against hers, until he could look her in the eye.

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

He brushed a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Pretend that you don't want me?"

He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes locked on her lips.

"That you don't want this?"

Everything seemed so surreal, her mind hazy. "What makes you think I'm pretending?" It came out in a breathless voice Emma was hardly able to recognize as her own and she saw him smirk as his eyes rose to hers.

"You're in over your head, love."

And it was like something within her snapped. One moment she was staring at him, somewhat shocked – but not really – at his ability to read her so well, and the next she was moving forward to push her lips against his. For a moment he paused, but then he was kissing her fervently, eagerly, roughly.

There was no alcohol to blame this time, nothing to use as an excuse for her actions. This was her – sober and willing and unapologetically her – wanting him. And, _gods_, did she want him. It had been so long since she'd slept with someone, although not for a lack of options. She could've had her pick of men over the years but something always held her back, and now she realized it for what it was.

She had wanted Hook.

She _wanted_ Hook.

Pulling at his hips, he fulfilled her silent request, pressing into her until her spine scraped against the mast painfully, but she didn't care. She was clutching at him and he moved against her, kissed her, touched her, until her legs, her entire body, trembled with need. Only then did he pull away, a fierce look in his eyes.

Without a word, he grabbed her hand, pulling her towards his quarters. Most of the crew was still singing and drinking on the deck, but Emma could hear the occasional whistle as they made their way past them; even the drunken pirates could see the determination in their captain's gait. He ripped open the door, dragged her through, and slammed it behind them before pushing her up against it, mouth finding hers once more.

The still and quiet Hook from earlier was gone, replaced by this one who seared her, scorched her with his very touch. His hand was twisted in her hair again while his hook pressed at the back of her thigh, the point pricking and forcing her to lift her leg and wrap it around his waist. The new position gave him better access to grind against her and she felt she would pass out from the dizzying rush of it all even as her hips tilted upwards, wanting more.

Emma grabbed his shoulders before wrapping her other leg around his waist, his hand automatically moving beneath her to help support her weight. She could feel all of him now, pressed up against her in the most tantalizing way; her hands grasped at his hair as his hips rocked against hers and his mouth sucked at the hollow of her throat. Feverishly, she worked at the fastenings of his vest.

"You're wearing too many clothes."

He chuckled, pausing in his ministrations. "_You're_ wearing too many clothes."

Which was also a true statement.

She was still working at his attire when he suddenly pulled her away from the door and walked over to set her down on his desk. As the last of the clasps came free, she desperately pushed the clothing away, forcing him to release her to remove the shirt and vest, and was strongly reminded of the last time they were this exact same situation. And maybe it was because she didn't stop to admire him as he expected, or maybe it was the look on her face, or maybe it was just because he always seemed to know every damn thing that went through her head, but he paused, leaning back and giving her a knowing look.

"You remember, don't you?" And she knew what he meant. "You didn't forget that night at all." The smirk was back, that god-forsaken thing that was sure to be the death of her. "I figured as much." She couldn't find the strength to speak as he put his hand to her chest, pressing until she had no choice but to lay flat on the desk, feeling very exposed despite being fully clothed.

"You remember everything."

His hand reached forward, fingers lightly touching her lips before trailing down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, and over her stomach to rest at the hem of her shirt.

"How it felt when I touched you…"

Both hand and hook were cold against her flushed skin as he slowly moved up her stomach, pushing the fabric higher.

"How it felt when I kissed you…"

He paused at her ribcage, leaning forward to press a hot kiss to the scar that still remained from her stabbing, the ordeal that started it all.

"How it felt when you wanted me…"

And then the material slipped over her head and she lay before him. Not since Baelfire had she allowed a man to simply look at her; it made her uncomfortable, too intimate of a gesture. But she didn't stop Hook. He stared at her for a moment, almost as if he were memorizing her, and the look on his face was almost as stimulating as his touch.

"Gods, Emma… do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

Palming one of her breasts, his mouth found the hardened peak of the other, and she arched her back at the spike of pleasure that shot straight to her core. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him against her and she felt his hips buck to hers instinctively with a deep groan. The feeling of his mouth on her… it scattered her senses, pushing her higher and higher until every part of her was literally begging for release.

With a sharp tug on his hair, she pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him hard. "Bed." It took too much mental capacity to form complete sentences. "Now."

And he was lifting her once again, carrying her to the bed where he released her to fall back into the softness, his hand instantly reaching for the laces of her trousers. It didn't take him long – of course Hook would be a damn expert at unlacing women's pants even with only one hand – and then he was tugging on them, pulling them slowly over her hips along with her undergarments, to fall to the floor with her boots.

Still standing at the edge of the bed, he looked down at her, but she didn't give him long to stare. Sitting up, her hands gripped his hips as she pressed her mouth to the bulge in his pants, nipping at him lightly through the leather. She could hear his sharp hiss at the contact and felt him roughly grasp a handful of her hair.

"Don't tease me, love."

Hook's voice was noticeably strained and the fingers in her hair twitched. Releasing his hips, her fingers began to work at the laces of his pants, deftly undoing them while she pressed hot kisses to the skin at his waist. And then she was done and pushing the material to the ground, brazenly allowing her eyes to roam his form as he kicked off the boots and pants around his legs. Gods, he was exquisite. All lean and muscled and handsome and absolutely perfect and – she rarely cursed, but – _fuck_.

Then she was laying back into the bed and the feeling of his body on hers, bare skin against bare skin, sent white-hot blades of pleasure through her. She could feel the heat building, that warm liquid fire that started in her stomach and spread through her entire body. His lips were on hers, his erection hard against her thigh, while her nails dug into his back, and she distantly thought that if this was what it felt like to be consumed by fire, she would gladly burn.

Trailing down her side, his hand slipped between them to press against her. His thumb brushed against the bundle of nerves where she ached for him, her hips jerking of their own accord at the sensation, and then he was sliding one, two fingers in. He stroked, fingers curling within her to hit that spot that caused her brain to go white and fuzzy at the edges, spots to flash in the darkness of her tightly shut eyes, and a moan to fall unbidden from her lips.

It felt so good – so _very_ good – and a spring began to tighten in Emma's belly, coiling tighter and tighter with each of his movements. The feeling of him rutting against her thigh, thrusting his hips in time with his fingers, was almost more than she could stand, and her hands fisted in his hair as she kissed him, giving into the sensations he was so skillfully pulling from her.

"Please…"

Emma wasn't even aware that she'd spoken, had whispered the plea against his lips. His fingers stilled before pulling out and she whimpered at the loss of contact. Elbows digging into the mattress on either side of her body, he pulled back to look at her and she could feel the slight trembling in his body. His hand grasped one of hers, twining their fingers together, pressing it into the bed near her head, and he shifted, moving his body into the position that would give them both the release they wanted – needed.

Things were no longer tentative between them, no longer maybe; now it was only yes and please and…

He paused, the tip of him just nudging at where she wanted him most, brushing over her slick folds in an electrifying caress. Gods, he was right there and she literally ached for him and she didn't know why the hell he wasn't doing anything…

"Say it, Emma." Her eyes shot to his. "I want to hear you say it."

The haze of lust somewhat lessened as she gazed at him and brought her hand to his cheek. His eyes were that startling blue she'd always been captivated by but there was something else behind them; a yearning. He _needed_ her to say this.

"I want you."

His expression was intense and he all but growled the demand. "Again."

"I want you."

She heard him groan with pleasure – it sounded so erotic – as he buried his face in the hair against her neck. The head of his erection was nestled firmly against her and then he was pressing into her, filling the emptiness with himself, and Emma felt the world go blank.

And there was nothing but his ragged breath across her skin…

Nothing but their firmly clasped hands…

Nothing but her breathless gasp and tightly shut eyes…

Nothing but desire as he filled her completely…

Nothing but the free-fall as she finally let herself go…

When at last Hook was buried deep within her, he let out a shuddering breath and stilled. The moment dragged out, punctuated only by the sound of strained breathing and their simultaneously pounding hearts. It felt like forever before he finally moved, rotating his hips against hers, and her free hand alternated between twisting in the sheets and grabbing at his back, his shoulder, his neck. He felt incredible inside her, a fullness that made her feel so complete, but she needed more.

"Please…" At her words, he lifted his head to press his forehead to hers. "Hook, please… I need…"

And she needed a lot of things, but the most important thing right then was that she needed him to move.

"Is that the sound of you begging me, love?"

It was so typical, so predictable, so _Hook_, but she knew he was fighting for control just as much as she was, could hear it in the hoarse tone of his voice, the tension running through his body.

"Move." Despite the word being forced through gritted teeth, her voice sounded desperate and wanton and completely different from anything spoken during the times she'd spent with other men. And that was because Hook wasn't those other men; he was so much more.

Then he pulled out, almost withdrawing from her completely, before pressing back into her.

"Yes…" And the word was a hiss against his mouth.

"Gods, Emma, you feel so good… tell me what you want."

Emma wanted so much – to laugh at the way life had a way of working out sometimes; to cry at the absolutely terrifying feeling of giving everything to another person; to hide from those crushingly strong emotions that were safer to not think about. But right then…

"Just you, Killian."

And the sound of his real name, not his moniker, falling from her mouth seemed to tear through the last shred of his self-control, and she felt a rumble go through his chest as he snapped his hips to hers.

And then he was moving and it was _perfect_.

Emma moved with him, met him thrust for thrust, her pants coming in time with the rhythm he set. Everything seemed hyper-sensitive, every nerve standing on end. She could feel the pinch of one of his rings as it pressed between their tightly clasped fingers, could smell the salt on his sweat-slick skin, could hear the rubbing of her body against the sheets, could taste the sea as she pressed her lips to his shoulder. She was happily drowning in the feel of him.

It was all so much – too much.

And her body blazed, toes curled, back arched as the pressure mounted with every touch, with every deep thrust. Then he shifted, angling himself against her, and she felt when he burned over just the right spot inside her; couldn't stop the keening, pleading sound she emitted. She could hear his hoarse grunts, could feel his jagged breaths, could hear him moan her name, could feel that energy burn through her body.

And she needed this…

Needed him…

Needed to breathe…

Needed release…

Needed…

And then the world snapped, sent her reeling and tumbling and falling, as her legs tightened against his hips, her walls clenched around him, and her body rippled with pleasure that was so intense it was almost pain.

A strangled sound forced itself from her mouth and she bit into the hard muscle of his shoulder as his continued movements drew out her orgasm, her body shuddering beneath his. She clung to him desperately, certain she would fall into the fire if she let go, and she moaned his name – _Killian_ – again. And the rhythm was shattered as he thrust quickly, deeply, into her one, two, three times before he came with a violent curse, pouring into her.

Slowly the world drifted back into focus.

He'd rolled to the side and pulled her to his chest. Her body was still trembling, sparking with the aftershocks, and she'd never felt so relaxed, so at ease, so utterly and completely content in all her life.

"That was…" A jumble of words came to mind, each of which could never come close to adequately describing what they'd just shared. "Amazing."

His hand swept across her cheek, brushing away the damp hair that clung to her face. "You expected me to be bad?"

Stretching forward, she caught him in a long, soft kiss. "Mmm… no, I expected you to be great. So just shut up and take the compliment."

She gave him a relaxed smile, received an equally languid smirk in return, and burrowed her face into his chest, concentrating on the steady stroke of his hand through her hair, and let sleep come up to claim her.

Giving in had never felt so good.

Or so right.

* * *

**Finally.**

**FYI – I'm changing the name of this story from "Some Kind of Adventure" to "I'll Ask For The Sea" – just so you all know what's going on the next time I update.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**A Day Off and A Curse**

"_How long is forever? Sometimes, just one second."_

* * *

It was a cold, windy day; not the kind that typically encouraged sitting on the beach, yet here she sat.

An occasional snowflake drifted through the air as she gazed out over the ocean. The skies were dark and heavy with the low-slung clouds, and the winds churned the sea, flashes of white catching her eye as the waves broke. The smell of winter was in the air, a crisp scent that hinted of ice and frost and snow.

It was late afternoon, right about the time she'd normally be in the bar straightening and cleaning to prepare for the evening rush, but she wouldn't be found there today. No, today she wouldn't have to deal with alcohol and men and catcalls because today was her day off. She hadn't asked for it nor had she expected it. In the fourteen years she'd been working at The Salty Dog Inn, she could count the days she'd had off on two hands; not that she minded, of course, seeing how she really did love her job. But she couldn't help but admit that having a day off was nice.

Despite the frigid temperatures, Emma kicked off her boots and wiggled her toes down into the sand, burying them deep beneath the grains. She had done the same thing as a child the few times her parents had taken her to the beach. At the thought of her parents, her brow involuntarily furrowed. It was a sensitive subject – always had been – that she tried not to think about, but memories of her time in the palace would sneak up on her at the oddest times, forcefully snagging her attention and focus and often leaving her winded with the hollow ache that remained in their wake.

Emma liked to think of herself as having been a well-rounded, mature-for-her-age child. However, while she _had_ been well-rounded and slightly more mature than others her age, she was still only a child. She'd looked on every situation through an adolescent's eyes, often seeing everything as dramatic, the end of the world. There was never time to wait and see how things panned out… no, there was only a problem and an action to be taken to circumvent it. It was the natural workings of a child's mind.

Now as an adult, she often wondered if she'd made the right choice in running away.

Her parents had been nothing but loving; fiercely overprotective and somewhat smothering, but loving nonetheless. And she'd never doubted their love for her, their absolute need to protect her. Their only daughter, she was the apple of their eye, the sole source of their pride and joy, the living embodiment of their love and dedication to each other, the proof of their signature testament – _I will always find you._

And she'd broken their hearts.

Although when Emma had stood on that merchant ship and finally took one last, long look at her home, her heart had broken just the same.

Running away was such an important thing for a twelve year old to decide. If only she'd known then what she knew now; how there's always another choice, always another option. Choosing to run away had been such an ultimate decision, one that completely cut ties. But…

What if she went back? The thought of seeing her parents after all these years… When she tried to imagine it, she couldn't see the look on their faces and it scared her. Would it be one of joy, happy to finally be reunited with their daughter? Or would it be one of disappointment, hurt and angry at her choice all those years ago?

How could she ever bring herself to face her parents and her kingdom again after fleeing from them?

"You're going to catch your death out here."

Emma whipped around, the wind blowing strands of hair into her face, but she was still able to make out the familiar form of the huntsman as he approached her.

"Ah, but at least it would be in the comfort of a day off."

"Is that right?" He dropped to sit beside her. "I can't believe Geppetto let you off. Let me guess – causing too much trouble? Roughing up the patrons?"

He laughed when she elbowed him. "Good behavior, actually."

"I'm sure. Seriously, though, Emma – it's freezing. You're likely to get sick if you stay out here too long." She would normally say something, but her mind still felt weighed down by her thoughts of home. There was a faint hint of concern in Graham's voice at her silence. "Are you alright?"

_Were_ things alright?

"Yeah, just thinking. Sometimes it's nice to get away; to have some time to yourself and just… be."

Her words hung in the air for a second before he spoke. "On that note, I think I'll take my leave. I'd hate to intrude on your alone time." Graham moved to stand up, but it was all a show, an attempt to lighten her mood, as his voice was pure jest.

Emma grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and tugged him back down, laughing, and couldn't help but feel grateful as she felt her spirits lift. "That's not what I meant and you know it so sit down."

"So since you have the evening off, I guess it's safe to assume I won't be seeing you at the bar tonight."

"Yes, that would be a safe assumption." She glanced to the huntsman with a sly grin. "Don't worry, though, Ruby's still working." He opened his mouth as if to say something and then immediately closed it. No doubt, he knew there was no use in denying his fling with the brunette; at least not to Emma. "How are things with Ruby?"

She'd tried to keep her tone casual, but it was obviously a loaded question, one that Graham easily picked up on. "As close as you two are, I'm sure you've heard all about how things are going."

"True, but that's only her take on things. I'm curious as to what you think."

"I don't quite trust my feelings on the matter to remain in confidence." The women of Tortuga were notorious gossips.

"If you don't want me to, I won't breathe a word." And she wouldn't. She loved Ruby to death, but she'd also grown to care for Graham over the four years she'd known him and wouldn't want to break his trust. He remained silent, obviously still hesitant, but she figured a little encouragement never hurt. "I know she's missed you ever since you moved away."

Graham turned to her with a discerning grin. "Are you trying to play matchmaker, Emma?"

"Not at all, just trying to figure out your intentions with my friend."

The playful expression drifted from his face and he looked back out over the ocean with a deep sigh. "I assure you, my intentions towards her are nothing but honorable, even while our current situation may not be."

Emma had been on the receiving end – genuine at first, joking later – of Graham's charisma, but she'd had few chances to really see the gentlemanly side of the huntsman that her friend occasionally spoke of. The fact that he was all but admitting to wanting something more proper with Ruby convinced Emma of her long-standing belief of his hidden feelings.

"She's scared."

"I know." And the fact that he knew, that he understood Ruby's inherent fear, and still pursued her was endearing.

There were so many things Emma wanted to say about her friend – that she had a rough time growing up in Tortuga, that she was just as infatuated with Graham as he was with her, that the way she would talk about him is different from other men – but she settled on something simple.

"Just give her time."

"I will; I have no plans of giving up on her. Eventually she'll come around."

* * *

Three hundred eighty-eight days

Emma stretched languorously, pointing her toes and arching her back, before curling into the warmth of the bed. It was early, the sky only showing trace amounts of light on the horizon through the windows, but the bed was empty. But then again, Hook was always an early riser.

She still called him Hook. His name – Killian – was special to her, one only uttered in heavy sighs as he kissed her, breathless moans as he touched her in all of the right places, or contented murmurs as she fell asleep in his arms. It just didn't feel right to say it outside of their private moments, and he didn't seem to mind since he never made a move to correct her.

Buried under the blankets, Emma could still smell him in the bed; the scent of leather and rum and sea that seemed to permeate his very being. Hook was… well, he'd turned out to be much more than she bargained for.

Their first night together had been one filled with passion; that overwhelming, mind-blowing feeling of finally giving in still made her head reel when she thought about it. He did that to her almost every time they slept together, but much to her surprise, Emma had discovered that there was a jealous side to Hook. For all his sexual exploits and numerous lovers over the years, he was still greedy and possessive of her, wanted her all to himself.

"_He wanted you. Probably would've forced himself on you, if I hadn't showed up."_

_Hook was seething, the fury rolling off of him in tense, angry waves, but a part of Emma refused to back down despite her vulnerable position. Both her hands were caught against the wall, one held tightly in his hand and the other snagged in the loop of his hook, and his body pressed against hers._

"_I can take care of myself. What makes you think I couldn't fight him off?"_

"_You're good, love, but not that good."_

_And now she was annoyed, could feel her own anger rise to match his at the insinuation that she couldn't take care of herself, and her words ground out through gritted teeth. "I could've fought him off." _

"_He has three hundred more years of experience than you. Trust me when I say that if he wanted you bad enough, he'd have taken you." He was purposefully taunting her now._

_Emma knew he wasn't really furious with her. The pirate that had attempted to rape her was already dead, eviscerated by Hook's cutlass, but the captain's anger hadn't lessened as the man bled out on the deck, and his worry had manifested itself into this rage. But despite knowing that, she couldn't help but rise to his taunts._

"_What if I wanted him to take me?"_

_He growled and rolled his hips against hers, and Emma had to fight the moan that threatened to spill out at the contact. He was angry and she was angry but – bloody hell – she still wanted him right then._

"_I'm the only man that gets to take you." And the dark edge to his voice sent a shiver skittering through her body._

_Then he crashed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss and the moan she'd been fighting vibrated in her throat. He released her hands to grab at her breast, her waist, her ass and she wound her arms around his neck, tugging at his hair, pulling him to her. But she wasn't ready to relent; she still fought for control, still spurred him on. _

"_You'd force me, Captain?"_

_He chuckled darkly. "It's not forcing when we both know you want it, love." But even still, her words seemed to give him pause. He slowed his movements against her and rasped into her ear. "Tell me you want this. I'll not take you unwillingly."_

_And she really didn't even hesitate, just ground the words out. "I want this."_

_She'd had angry sex before, the kind that bordered on the edge of dangerous, but it had been nothing compared to what she felt now. This was… gods, it was electrifying and harsh and exactly what she wanted. She felt Hook reach under her skirt for her undergarments, felt them slide down her legs to pool around her ankles, and distractedly noticed that he had also freed himself from his pants at some point._

_Then he was lifting her, wrapping her legs around his waist, rucking her skirt up around her waist, and he didn't even bother to shove his pants all the way to the floor, just let them hang below his hips, as he thrust into her roughly._

_Her head fell back against the wall with a thud and she groaned his name as he set a punishing pace. Sparks of pleasure danced through her body, stoking the fire he'd created. His face was buried against her neck, mouth alternating between nipping and sucking at her skin, as he rutted into her hard and fast. There was nothing gentle about it – sometimes that was exactly what was needed – and when it was all over, they moved to the bed and collapsed there, Emma tucked to his side. His lips were pressed to her temple and the words were mumbled into her hair._

"_I don't enjoy the thought of you with another man, love."_

"_Then I guess it's good that I'm all yours."_

But while he might have been selfish for her, no one could ever say Hook wasn't a generous lover. Most of the time, he preferred to take his time with her; seemed to enjoy watching her writhe under his careful ministrations, often bringing her to the edge – sometimes more than once – before seeking any pleasure for himself. Sometimes, though, Emma enjoyed being the one to take control.

_Hook's pants were caught around his knees and her hands were against the outside of his thighs, holding him in place, as she took him into her mouth. Since most of the men she'd been with only wanted a good lay without much else, it was something she'd only done a few times, but she'd never quite gotten over the exhilarating feeling of power it gave her._

_She felt desire run through her at the groan he emitted, quickly followed by a curse, as she swirled her tongue around the tip of him, and his hand moved from her shoulder to fist in her hair as she began to bob her head steadily. She alternated between teasing him – licking down the length of him – and pleasuring him – taking him deep in her mouth – until she could sense it. The shallow thrusting of his hips, the slight flush to his cheeks, his increasingly ragged pants, the stiffening of his muscles. They'd been together enough times for her to recognize the signs, could tell he was close, so without warning, she pushed him back to fall on the bed, ripped off her pants, and climbed on top of him. He briefly made a move as if to flip them over so he could take control, but she fought against it, pushing him back down into the mattress. And he moaned her name like it was both a curse and a blessing when she slid onto him and began to move._

_His hand and hook were at her hips, guiding her as she rose and fell against him, and his eyes were glazed over as he watched her moving above him. The rush from being able to bring him to this point, of being able to pleasure him in such a way, was so arousing that it didn't take her long to finish, and she felt his hook prick her skin when he followed her over the edge. His hips continued to move in a shallow rhythm for a moment before he finally stilled with a satisfied sigh._

"_Bloody hell, woman… I don't know if you'll ever cease to amaze me."_

_And she leaned forward to rest her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat as he traced his fingers lightly over back._

It wasn't all about the sex, though. They'd grown close in the years before sleeping together and all of those preceding moments seemed to serve the base for this thing they had going that still made her nervous to actually label. Tryst? Affair? Relationship? She didn't know exactly what it was, but it had passed the point of casual a long time ago. In between their times of passion, there were moments so sincere they almost scared her.

_The venom running through her veins burned like hell. _

_They had been exploring around the base of Neverpeak Mountain when they'd happened across a beehive, and although they'd tried to retreat quietly, the insects had attacked. Somehow, Hook had emerged unscathed; Emma, on the other hand, had emerged with several stingers lodged in her lower back._

"_The ointment will kick in soon." It had been a vile-smelling substance procured from some plant on the island, but Hook had insisted that it would ease the effects of the poison._

_Emma clenched her teeth as her muscles tensed involuntarily in response to another rush of pain. Muscles cramping, hands twisted in the sheets, head pounding… surely dying would be a relief compared to this. And just when she felt like she couldn't take another second, she felt his hand on her back._

_He massaged, moving in small circles over her bare skin, her shirt having been discarded – it hadn't been necessary but he'd been so insistent with his stupid smirk – so he could tend to her injuries. His hand was cool against her clammy skin and she couldn't help but be surprised at the comforting gesture. Still dwelling on his constant ability to surprise her, she suddenly realized she wasn't tense anymore, that she'd relaxed into the bed._

"_Feel better?"_

"_Mmm…" It was an affirmative noise, the 'yes' she'd been trying to say not really taking complete form. "I saw you, you know." His hand faltered for a second before resuming. "When we were running from the bees, I saw you kill that snake."_

_They'd been running through the forest, the furious buzzing still following them, when they came upon a fork in the path. Emma had turned, trying to look down the path to the left and just barely saw a flash of green and the glint of steel out of the corner of her eye. When they resumed running, she'd glanced down to see two halves of a snake crumpled in the dirt._

"_You don't always have to protect me like that. Plus, it's not like it earns you any extra points in my book; I'd be in your bed at night either way."_

_The bed shifted as he leaned forward and she couldn't stop the chill that swept through her as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder._

"_There's really no ulterior motive, love. Sometimes it's as simple as me believing you to be worth protecting."_

Pulling on a shirt and trousers, Emma exited the cabin to see the sun just peeking over the horizon, rays of light shining beautifully onto the clouds that dotted the sky; a beautiful start to the day. Most of the crew still slept, only a few moved about the deck, and she gave a slight smile to Jukes as he passed her carrying a huge coil of rope.

Stretching, she contemplated helping the cook get breakfast together when she heard both Hook and a feminine voice from up above at the helm. With a smile, Emma made her way up the steps; she knew that voice. The conversation ended abruptly at her arrival, an awkward silence filling the air, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Tinkerbell!" Emma stepped forward to give the petite woman a hug. "It's been a while since we've seen you." The last time the pixie had visited the ship was probably four or five months ago when she'd arrived with a gift and message from Wind Runner. "How have you been?"

"Hello Emma – I've been well. I know it's been far too long since I've dropped by and I only wish I were here now under better circumstances." Tinkerbell took a couple steps back, wringing her hands nervously. "There's something you need to know…"

"Tink." Hook's voice was sharp, the keen edge of it cutting the pixie off, and his expression unhappy.

The pixie turned to him, hands on her hips, clearly frustrated. "You can't keep this from her, Killian. She has to know. We _have_ to tell her."

Emma looked back and forth between the two people before her. Both were tense, their jaws clenched, and glaring at each other in a silent battle of wills. Not since one of the crewmembers had tried to accost her had she seen Hook this edgy, and she could honestly say she'd never seen Tinkerbell stressed. Overall, the situation didn't bode well and she felt a nervous ball of energy begin to roll around in her stomach.

"Tell me what?"

But the question fell flat as they both ignored her and Hook spoke. "How do we even know the curse would affect her anymore?"

"What curse?" The only curse Emma knew of was the dark magic that had been in the knife – her fingers slid unconsciously to the scar that remained – but she'd been healed of that for a long time now.

"Think about it, Tink. Neverland's a completely different realm; perhaps their tie was severed when we came here."

"What tie?"

The pixie raised her eyebrows. "Are you willing to take that chance?"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" But they'd fallen into silence again, clearly too involved in their own argument to take notice of her. She'd have more luck talking to one of the trees on the island.

Emma was just contemplating going back to bed – because this was a bizarre and unsettling start to her day – when suddenly, Tinkerbell turned away from Hook to face her. "Emma, what do you remember of your time before Neverland?"

It was a strange sort of question that immediately made her brow furrow in a combination of annoyance – because they'd refused to answer her questions – and concentration – because it really was hard to recall. She'd felt it more and more with each day spent in Neverland, the blank space in her memory growing until the only things she could readily remember were things that had occurred while in this realm.

"Umm… not too much." An enchanted ceiling that reflected stars. "I mean, it's all bits and pieces." A swaying sign through the rain. "Just a flash here and there." A full tankard sliding across a gleaming bar. "Nothing real concrete." A grassy clearing.

"Then Neverland has taken most of you then." The pixie's face was disappointed as she turned to Hook once more. "You know that makes this a lot harder, right?" And it looked like Hook wanted nothing more than to stalk away in that moment but he stayed put, responding with one hard nod.

"Can either of you _please_ tell me what's going on?"

All the secrets and vague questions were getting ridiculous; if something was going on that involved her, then – damn it – she wanted to know. With one last leveled glare at Hook, Tinkerbell turned to Emma.

"I'm not originally from here, Emma. I'm actually from the Enchanted Forest; I just decided to come to Neverland centuries ago with a group of my brethren. And the reason I haven't come to see you in recent months is because I've been visiting some of the fairies that reside in the Enchanted Forest. While I was there, I met with the Blue Fairy. Do you remember her, Emma?"

Blue Fairy… it sounded familiar but she couldn't quite figure out why.

"It's ok if you don't; the memories of her would be some of the easier ones for Neverland to take since you two weren't very close. Anyway, I was talking to her and she explained how the entire kingdom was in a state of panic because of a curse that had been enacted almost thirty years ago."

Emma glanced at Hook but he wasn't watching her; his head was turned, gaze fixed at some point over the water. "That doesn't sound good… I hope everyone's alright." She really wished Hook would look at her.

"Everyone's fine for now, but apparently there's not much any of them can do because the curse only involved two people." The pixie paused and Emma's eyes slid back to her. "Emma, can you remember anything about your parents? Anything at all?"

A warm smile and soft hands; eyes crinkled in laughter and blonde hair.

"No. Not really."

Tinkerbell sighed. "A long time ago, there were two women named Regina and Snow. They were friends for several years until one day a feud broke out between them. It was a terrible misunderstanding on Snow's part, but Regina refused to forgive her, only wished to make her pay for the hurt she'd unintentionally inflicted."

"That's awfully cruel…"

"Things escalated into an all-out war that spanned several years and caused several casualties on both sides. Eventually, though, Snow and her comrades defeated Regina, banishing her to a far corner of the Enchanted Forest. Everyone picked up the pieces and with the Evil Queen gone, people were finally happy again; Snow even married a prince – her true love – and they reigned as King and Queen."

Everything Tinkerbell was saying was jangling around in her head. A part of her insisted it was familiar, that she should know this, but another part of her claimed that this was just a fascinating story.

"In time, Snow fell pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful little girl. She was their first child, a princess. But on the day she was presented to the kingdom, Regina appeared. Still seeking a way to hurt Snow, the Evil Queen placed a deadly curse, a mortal curse, upon the child. The King and Queen were devastated, but the Blue Fairy came to them and was able to cast a counter-curse on the princess. It wasn't enough to break the Evil Queen's original curse, but it _was_ enough to effectively stall it."

"But all magic comes with a price…" Emma muttered the words, not even understanding where they'd come from or how she'd known them.

"That's right, Emma, and there was a price to the Blue Fairy's counter-curse. You see, what happened was the young princess and the Evil Queen became bound together, their very essences connected and tied to a single fate."

"And what fate was that?"

"Death."

The word seemed to echo in the area between Tinkerbell, Hook, and Emma.

"The Blue Fairy's spell had saved the princess' life for the time being but the original curse was still in place. Someone had to die to fulfill the curse, but now that the Evil Queen and the princess were tied to one another, it could be either one."

"So who ended up dying?"

"Neither of them, yet, and that's why the kingdom is in such turmoil. Another factor to the changed curse was that it came with a timeframe. Thirty years; that was how long they had to fulfill the curse. And in the end, if neither of them had died within that time, both would die."

The silence spread out, settled around them, heavier than the air Emma desperately tried to inhale. But it was as if her lungs weren't functioning properly, body couldn't process the oxygen properly. She didn't need Neverland's memory-stealing magic to know that she hadn't heard this story before, but something just didn't _feel_ right.

"A tragic story, obviously… but what does all this have to do with me?"

"We can't tell you, love. This is something you have to remember for yourself." It was the first time he'd spoken since his attempts at cutting Tinkerbell off and Emma was slightly taken aback at the plaintive tone laced through the words.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Even though her mind was whirling, trying to process something that was undoubtedly important. "Remember what?" And she didn't even hear him move but suddenly Hook was in front of her. He stood close, his hook catching her wrist while his fingers brushed against her cheek.

"Remember who you are."

"I'm Emma… Emma Swan." Everything was so fuzzy, her past a blank space filled with cobwebs and dust. "What else is there?"

Then slowly, Hook leaned forward; he hesitated for a moment, as if to reconsider his actions, before closing the gap and lightly pressing his lips to hers. There was no pressure to the kiss, no teasing or demanding or seductive edge that usually accompanied the action. Despite being partially preoccupied with their prior discussion, Emma still had the presence of mind to feel surprised by the genuine sweetness of it all. She was still reveling in the easy, unhurried way his lips were moving against hers when her mind felt like it literally exploded.

It was all a jumble.

Voices and music and laughing and crying and dancing and rain on her face and wind in her air and grass against her skin and salt on her lips and stars above her head and the feeling of a hug and the clash of a sword and the sway of a ship and the warmth of a fire and the touch of a hand and the feeling of giving in and letting go and giving up and there was so much noise and so many images and so many sensations that she couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't breathe…

And when it all cleared, her memories were there as if they'd never disappeared in the first place.

The pressure left her – she didn't even remember tensing up – and she relaxed, Hook catching her as she fell against his body. Realizing that she'd finally broken through the magic, Hook ended the kiss, nipping softly at her lower lip before pulling away to look at her. "Well done, love." But his eyes were also sad and she didn't understand…

And then she knew.

Her mother and the Evil Queen. Snow and Regina. Emma had believed the happily ever after endings to the stories she'd been told as a child, believed that, when her parents defeated and banished the Evil Queen, peace had reigned in her dark absence. Her parents had told her that to protect her from the truth and she'd believed them. But she'd been wrong. So very wrong. Regina had come back to cast a curse on her, the one person her parents cared for most, and her whole life had then become a race against the clock.

Still holding onto Hook, Emma looked to the pixie. "I'm cursed?"

"Yes."

"And I'll die if something isn't done by my thirtieth birthday?"

"Yes."

She tried to focus on Hook's steady heartbeat, needing something to anchor her against the churning powerlessness she felt. This morning she had felt the happy obliviousness that Neverland granted; now she felt sick with the weight of her memories and the knowledge of what was to come. All of the times she'd been angry at how overprotective her parents were… now it all made sense. They'd been trying to keep her safe; not just from the normal evil of the world, but from the Evil Queen.

"_You have to die. You have to die so she can live."_

The words floated back to her now and – oh god – it all made such perfect and awful sense. She looked at Hook, sure that her eyes portrayed the desperation she felt. "The guy that stabbed me back in Tortuga… he was sent by Regina, wasn't he?"

"I've no doubt in my mind."

He'd said Emma was meant to die, had to die so that she – the Evil Queen – could live. Because they were tied together, bound by a death curse, bound by a hate that stemmed from events that occurred before her time and that she had no control over. She was bound to either kill or be killed for no reason other than being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.

But how the hell was she supposed to overcome the curse and kill the Evil Queen?

"I have no idea what to do." She pulled away from Hook, restless as she began to feel the stirrings of panic. "Regina… she has magic. I've heard the stories from when she was at the height of her power, all the evil things she could do, _did_ do. There's no way I can go up against that and win. She'd destroy me before I could even come close."

The longest long sword in the world couldn't reach farther than Regina's magic.

"Emma, the Blue Fairy also told me of a plan your parents had in place." Emma remembered eavesdropping on her parents' conversation the night of the marketplace incident; her father had mentioned something about sticking to a plan. "They believed it to be a way to break the curse without either of you having to die, but when you disappeared… well, there was no way to go through with the plan without you there."

"That's it, then!" The hope she felt was like fire as it rushed through her veins. "We'll go back to the Enchanted Forest and follow this plan. That way it'll break the curse and no one will have to die." Even Hook's countenance had changed at the unexpected opportunity. "What do we have to do? Did the Blue Fairy tell you what the plan was?"

Tinkerbell rushed forward, grabbing Emma's hands, and the pixie's face was so distraught that her heart immediately dropped; she didn't even need to hear what was said next to know it wasn't good news. "The Blue Fairy didn't know. No one knows except the King and Queen and a few of their most trusted advisors. You would have to return to them, Emma; it's the only way to find out how to break the curse. You'd have to go…"

Home.

The word twisted and turned until it formed a knot in her stomach. As she'd matured in Tortuga, Emma had thought several times about the life she'd left behind, had even entertained the occasional thought of returning; in the end, though, she'd always shoved the thoughts away, sure that her parents would never forgive her for the pain she'd put them all through.

"I… what if…"

Hook, no doubt, knew her well enough to understand the hesitant and slightly fearful expression in her voice. "Doesn't seem like there's much of a choice, love."

And there wasn't. Unless she wanted to dive headfirst into a fruitless battle that would, without a doubt, end in her untimely death, she had to return to her parents to carry out this plan they had.

"Ok." Gods, how could that one accepting word make her feel so irrationally nervous? "We'll go back and find them."

"Good." Tinkerbell had a determined edge to her expression. "Now we'll have to work fast to get you both out of here before time runs out. Speaking of which, how much time do we have to work with here? How old are you, Emma?"

She honestly had no idea. When they made the portal jump with the magic bean, she'd been roughly twenty-eight and a half, but she had no clue as to how long they'd been in Neverland. With nothing to do except go on adventures and have fun, it had seemed pointless to keep track of time.

"I'm not sure. How long have we been here?"

"Starkey!" Hook's bellow made Emma jump. "Bring your count of the days." Starkey, after having lived in Neverland for three hundred years, had decided this go round to maintain a calendar of sorts to keep track of their time here. The gruff pirate disappeared below deck before bringing forth a piece of driftwood with numerous marks gouged into its face, and they all watched as Hook counted.

With a sudden thought, Emma turned to Tinkerbell. "Does it really matter how long we've been here? I mean, this is Neverland; people aren't supposed to age here."

"You're right to an extent. Neverland does prevent your body from aging, but it has no control over the age of your mind. So physically, your body is still the age it was when you arrived, but internally it's different. This is a powerful curse, and I suspect it's more likely to be tied to your real age than your physical one."

Figures.

Hook looked up, finished counting the marks. "Including today, we've been here three hundred eighty-eight days. That would put Emma at…"

"Just over twenty-nine and a half." Emma finished the sentence quietly. Had they really been in Neverland for over a year? Time flies when you're having fun.

Tinkerbell was worrying her lip anxiously. "That doesn't give us much time; a little less than six months to break the curse. You'll have to leave immediately so you have as much time as possible to get back to your parents."

"One problem, Tink – we don't have a way to get home."

"What?" The pixie's voice was shrill, chastisement thick in her question. "You came here without having a way to get out?"

Hook crossed his arms in self-defense of his decision. "Well, it wasn't like our trip here was exactly organized ahead of time; ended up being more of a spur-of-the-moment trip. I'm sure you remember the particulars of it."

"This certainly complicates things." Tinkerbell paced back and forth, deep in concentration, before halting. "It would take some convincing, but…"

"But what?"

"With enough pixie dust, we could enchant the ship so it will take all of you back to the Enchanted Forest." Tinkerbell looked to them with an apprehensive expression. "But I'd have to go to Clarion with this and I can't guarantee her cooperation. And even if she does, it'll take time to create and gather enough dust… I honestly can't say how long."

Emma turned to Hook, not liking the grim set of his mouth or his tone. "Once again, it seems like we don't have a choice."

Tinkerbell gave them a sharp nod. "I'll be in touch." She then transformed back to her miniature form and flew away towards the island and Pixie Hollow to plead Hook and Emma's case once more, requesting her brethren's help in returning them home. Emma watched the pixie until her glowing form was out of sight before she turned to Hook.

"Why didn't you forget everything?"

He seemed somewhat startled by the change in topic. "I forgot just as easily as you did, love. But I've also spent a great deal of time here and have had plenty of opportunities to practice remembering." Three hundred years of practice at trying not to forget both Milah and his revenge. "Even still, Tink had to work at me for a while this morning before I remembered."

"Oh." For some reason it made her feel better to know he had a difficult time of it also. "You didn't want to tell me about the curse." It was meant to have been phrased as a question, but that would've just been out of courtesy because she knew he'd wanted to keep it from her.

His voice was soft and he averted his eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a pirate, not a sorcerer. This is a completely different world and I know next to nothing about magic; not how or even _if_ magical properties can even travel between realms. How do we know the curse would reach you here? What if it's already broken and we don't even know it?"

"And what if it isn't?" Emma mirrored the pixie's earlier testament and Hook looked to her.

"I know. But I find denial to be much easier than acceptance." The words seemed hard for him to say. "Returning to the Enchanted Forest would force our hand; it's either a confrontation or death. Here in Neverland, I don't know what the outcome would be. It might end in death, but it could also mean life."

Hidden deep between his words was a vulnerability, a very-real concern for her and her predicament, that touched her so deeply that she stepped forward quickly and wrapped her arms around his waist. His body remained tense, but his arms came around her in a fierce hug and he buried his face in her hair.

* * *

**Whoa, chapter. A bit more was supposed to happened in this chapter but the characters hijacked things and then everything started to get a little too long so yeah… **

**FYI – I originally had planned to make the curse deadline at twenty-eight years old to stick with the show, but then changed it to thirty because that put Emma meeting Hook too young. I wanted them to meet once they were a little older and still wanted all those years in between for them to get to know each other.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**A Regiment and A Returning Voyage**

"_We lead strange lives, chasing our dreams from place to place."_

* * *

"Lass, be a sweetheart and get me some gin."

Wait for it…

"And then how 'bout you come with me and we spend some quality time together."

There it was.

The young sailor had been back and forth to the bar all evening, choosing to bother Emma instead of waiting for Ruby to make rounds at the tables. He really wasn't unattractive – she'd certainly slept with worse before – and on any other night she'd probably choose to share his bed, but she just wasn't in the mood tonight. She'd brushed off his advances, although he'd stubbornly refused to back down.

"Here's your drink, but I wouldn't count on getting any more than that."

"Come on. It's not like there's much else you can do on a night like this."

"I could sleep."

"Aye, with me."

"If I go with you, I doubt there will be much rest involved and I need my beauty sleep."

"You don't need beauty sleep, lass; you're gorgeous enough already."

She rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but appraised the sailor. A line of storms had passed through the area over the past few weeks, bringing a string of illness to the town, and while she hadn't come up with a full-blown sickness, the conditions were just enough to make her feel under the weather. She could use a pick-me-up. It might not hurt to… because he wasn't… and she had been kind of…

The bar was fairly empty due to the deluge outside, and Emma, having convinced herself that Ruby could handle the few patrons that had shown up for the evening, was just getting ready to accept the sailor's offer when she heard the rain. The two floors of rooms above the bar usually masked most sounds of the outside elements, so when the door opened and Emma heard the roaring of the downpour, she couldn't help but look to see who would venture out in this mess. That's when her heart skipped a couple times, beating painfully out of rhythm, and she forgot how to breathe.

Soldiers.

_Royal_ soldiers.

Emma began to feel the stirrings of panic as she gaped at the group of ten men dressed in the uniformed garb of her former home. They paid for their rooms and stepped into the pub, glancing around at the furnishings but not really noticing her yet. Heart pounding, she whirled around, staring at but not really seeing the rows of liquor bottles in front of her.

"So what do you say, sweetheart?"

Ruby made her way behind the bar, dropping the empty tankards into the wash bin before taking a long drink of whatever ale she'd chosen for the night. "Bugger off, sailor, she's not interested." Ruby to the rescue.

"If that's true, I'd like to hear it from…"

"I'm not interested."

All earlier thoughts of leaving with the sailor had vanished, and Emma didn't even turn around, just continued to stare blankly into space with her back to the soldiers, as the bar stool creaked slightly and was followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps that she assumed was her suitor finally giving up and retreating.

"Look at these guys. Royal soldiers… they're a good ways from home." Her usually observant friend didn't even seem to notice that Emma was still dazedly looking the opposite direction, too absorbed in the rare sight of officers. "I wonder what they're doing in Tortuga."

What _were_ they doing here? Could they really still be looking for her? It had been eight years since she'd disappeared; most people would have given up on a runaway after that long, but then again, not everyone's parents were Snow White and Prince Charming.

"Oh well, business is business no matter who's pocket the money comes from. You have a new customer, by the way." The brunette refilled her tray with drinks and made her way back onto the floor.

Slowly, Emma turned and tended to the sailor that had appeared at the bar, all the while keeping a wary eye on the officers that had stopped to talk to one of the patrons. There had been a small crew of pirates seated in a far corner that had conveniently disappeared at the sight of the soldiers in the short time her back had been turned. Being a pirate wasn't a punishable crime; however, engaging in the act of piracy – plundering ships and stealing goods – was. Apparently, the group that had frequented the bar the past few nights was part of the latter group and had considered it in their best interests to leave port.

With a sinking feeling, she could do nothing but watch as Ruby meandered past the soldiers, drawing an appreciative gaze from more than a few, and motioned towards the bar. And then the soldiers were making their way to the bar. Damn it… she needed to get out of here. As the captain of their regiment – she'd not forgotten the royal insignias that described the various ranks – reached the bar, Emma did everything in her power to remain calm and nonchalant.

"Hello there, miss. Could we get a round of whiskey?"

She nodded and wiped her hands on the towel before working on fulfilling the order. Her back was to the men for the most part, and when it wasn't she kept her eyes lowered. But it was foolish to think that a mere lack of eye contact would protect her.

"You know, you seem awfully familiar."

The captain was studying her inquisitively and Emma fought hard against the nervous flush that threatened to color her cheeks. "Sorry, I can't say the same for you."

"Do I… know you?"

Sliding the glasses across the bar, she responded none too nicely. "Not unless the royal regiment makes a habit out of spending time in seedy port towns."

Predictably, the captain's gaze narrowed at the insinuation that he was less than honorable and seemed about to drop the line of questioning when he suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. "I know! You remind me of Queen Snow."

Honestly, what were the odds? Starting tomorrow, she would make a habit of visiting the local gambling hall because her luck was astounding. Although, since this could be considered a stroke of bad luck, maybe not.

"Same face, similar eyes."

Emma was just about to excuse herself and find some way to escape when Ruby sauntered up, successfully drawing the captain's attention. "August is having a crisis in reception and needs our help." Which was a bald-faced lie and they both knew it; August had never in his life needed help in running any part of the bar, much less label it a crisis. As well as they knew each other, it didn't take much for Emma to pick up on the brunette's ploy.

Wordlessly, she followed Ruby out of the bar. She wasn't surprised in the least to find August seated calmly at the reception desk, not a crisis in sight, and, therefore, also wasn't surprised when Ruby made her way upstairs. August looked up as they passed and was about to say something when his sister cleanly cut him off.

"Cover the bar for a second. Emma's not feeling well."

Emma would have to talk to her friend about how often she lied, but since the lies were benefitting her this evening, she would do it another day. They made their way down the hallways, pausing only while Emma unlocked her door, and didn't speak until the door was closed and they were in the safety of the room.

"Alright, spill."

Ruby was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over her chest and an expectant and curious look on her face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't _even_ give me that." Yeah, Emma knew that wouldn't have worked. "I've never once seen you lose your cool at the bar but back there… you were getting ready to lose it. So what's going on?"

She could give any number of excuses as to why the men had made her nervous; they were royal soldiers, after all. But she didn't want to lie like that… not when Ruby had entrusted her with an incredibly shocking secret of her own not long ago. With a deep sigh and one more glance at the brunette who had a Cheshire-like grin spread wide across her face, Emma began to explain everything of her past.

* * *

Four hundred sixty-one days

"That's the last of it."

Tinkerbell shook out the last of the bags that had contained the pixie dust, a few last shimmering specks falling to the deck of the Jolly Roger. Every inch of the ship had been coated in a fine layer of the dust to the point where it literally glowed in the evening light. Emma glanced down at the railing beside her, the normally dark, weather-worn wood now a glistening gold, and touched a finger to the dust.

"Don't get too much on you, Emma. We want the ship to fly, not you."

In the end, everything had worked out. Clarion had agreed to aid their escape from Neverland, and although it had taken longer than they had expected for the pixies to gather enough dust to enchant the Jolly Roger, their leave was now imminent. And it was about time, too. They'd kept an anxious eye on the count of days while they waited for the pixie dust, and now only eighty-four days remained until Emma turned thirty.

Not much time left.

The crew moved about the deck preparing the ship to make sail, with Hook occasionally barking orders from the helm. Their initial trip had been by way of magic bean; the harrowing sensation of falling wasn't something Emma was eager to repeat so the fact that their return journey would be by flying put her at ease, as odd as it sounded. After one last order to weigh anchor, the sails billowed and the ship moved out into the ocean. Hook had told her once that the Jolly Roger was the fastest ship in all the realms and she believed it, watching as the magical island grew increasingly small until it was lost in the line where the sky meets the sea.

The water seemed to fly by beneath them as they picked up speed, wind whipping her hair into a tangled mess. It was then that she noticed Tinkerbell faintly glowing. Emma already knew, didn't need to ask the question, but she did anyway. "You're not coming with us?"

"Not right now." The pixie smiled at her sadly. "There's business I have to take care of here first, but then I plan to travel to your realm to help in whatever way I can with your quest."

"But how will you find us?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. I'll be bringing along my own way of finding you." And the mischievous smile she flashed reminded Emma of the stories she'd heard about the unfailingly impish nature of pixies. With one last hug, Emma bid farewell and watched as Tinkerbell transformed and circled her head a couple times before flying up to Hook who gave her a salute. She watched until the ball of light disappeared much as the island had before bounding up the steps to stand with Hook at the helm.

He must have noticed the dismayed look on her face. "You'll see her again, love. Just hopefully not here." And Emma was inclined to agree. "Speaking of which, it's time to think happy thoughts." The last part was loud, a command to the entire crew.

"Do you even know how to fly a ship?"

"Well I imagine it's a lot like sailing one, only without the water."

The devil-may-care shrug that accompanied his words didn't reassure her much, but he smirked at her confidently. Emma gave him a skeptical look before inhaling deeply, breathing in the pixie dust that covered the ship, the power of it immediately bringing to mind flashes of her happy thoughts.

Many of them were the same as before – smoke, perfume, salt, and leather – but there were a few new scents that surprised her. The electric smell of a storm as she hid her face against Hook's chest when thunder and lightning cracked overhead. The hint of wheat as her and Hook rested in the grasses of the Neverplain. The tang of rum as she tended to a scrape Peter Pan had incurred. The fresh air after the rain as she playfully shoved Hook into a pond only to join him moments later when he pulled her in. So many of them seemed to involve Hook in some way, shape, or form… it was almost embarrassing.

Glancing down at the deck, she noticed that most of the crew grinned widely, lost in their happy thoughts – most likely visions of rum and women – as they sailed along; even Hook was silent as he steered them. He'd been alive for so long, had far more years to create happy thoughts, but Emma couldn't help but wonder if she had a place in his the way he did in hers.

With a slight shudder, the ship began to rise until it was sailing along above the water. Emma gripped at the railings, peering over the side of the ship in a combination of nervousness and excitement. The Jolly Roger pulled away from the water, the blue expanse of the Neversea falling farther and farther away from them as they ascended into the cloud bank. The moisture in the air dampened her clothes, but then they were above the clouds, seemingly floating in a veritable sea of stars. Everything was clearer, brighter, more vibrant, and it very nearly took her breath away as she turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Beautiful hardly came close to describing it, but she doubted a word existed that could adequately capture the splendor. The ship was surrounded by the inky blackness of the sky; it was a darkness much deeper and stronger than any night she'd spent in the Enchanted Forest or Neverland, and the stars seemed to shine even brighter for it. The air also held a faint shimmer that, upon closer inspection, appeared to be stardust.

"Very much so…"

Their journey was mostly silent. The rare experience of being in the skies and so close to the heavens brought a peaceful stillness to the crew of the Jolly Roger, one that everyone seemed unwilling to breach with needless conversation. Hook navigated them through the portal between the realms – second star to the left, this time – and they travelled on through the night, but Emma never retired to the cabin. Instead, she brought a pillow and blanket to the upper deck and stretched out beside Hook who still stood at the helm. Her hand rested lightly against his leg as they moved through the sky.

She honestly had no intentions of falling asleep, would have preferred to watch the stars go by around them, but when she felt someone shake her shoulder and opened her eyes, it was morning. The sunlight was bright and she brought a hand to block some of its rays, peeking around to see Hook smiling down at her.

"We're about to land. I thought you might want to see it."

She stood up, abandoning her makeshift bed and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and moved to the railing to watch their descent. There was a moment of panic when Emma saw how fast the Jolly Roger was approaching the water, but then the ship leveled out, gradually dropping until it touched down to the water much more gently than she'd anticipated. Once the rocking had ceased, the lull during the flight was broken. Crewmembers rushed around adjusting riggings and sails while Hook pulled out a map.

"Based on the stars… thirty degrees southwest… not enough wind… twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven…"

Emma watched as he studied the map stretched out over the helm and mumbled to himself, concentrating on setting a course for the royal palace. She sighed, quashing the thoughts of all that needed to be done, and immediately was wracked by a cough. Despite what she knew was clean, ocean air around them, it felt gritty and rough in her lungs after the pure Neverland atmosphere. It would take some getting used to again.

She continued to watch Hook for a moment before hesitantly speaking something that had been on her mind since she'd learned of the curse. "I want to go to Tortuga first." Instantly, his eyes shot to hers, and the look on his face was not one of agreement. "I know we're in a hurry, but…" She trailed off because there wasn't a logical reason to her request; it was a more personal reason.

"We don't have the time to waste, love. It'll take us at least four weeks to get to your parents."

"But my friends are there… they're like my second family. I want them to know that I'm alive. They could even come with us; believe it or not, they'd be useful if it ever came to a fight."

He shot her a skeptical look. "I highly doubt the two barkeepers have experience in battle."

"No, but they grew up in Tortuga which can be just as bad. August has broken up more bar fights over his life than I can count and Ruby can take care of herself."

"Even if your brother-of-sorts could stand his ground in a fight, I'll still wager the girl to be more of a hindrance than help."

With Ruby's delicate stature, it was an obvious assumption to make, but… "You'd be surprised."

"Knocking out men in a bar with a wooden club is far different than facing a sober man with a sword intent on taking your life."

"I know that, but I know she can help."

"No."

"She's a werewolf." Hook turned to her, slack-jawed in disbelief. Since it was the first – and would most likely be the last – time Emma had ever seen the look on his face, she enjoyed it for a moment.

"She's a… what?"

"A werewolf." He continued to stare at her, although he'd recovered enough to close his mouth. "Transform at the full moon, terrorize villagers, silver bullets… the whole nine yards. I'm sure you know the stories."

"Aye, I know the stories; I've just never had the pleasure of actually meeting one. So how has she managed to reside in Tortuga all her life without her little problem becoming the town's problem?"

"It's a long story, but it boils down to a cloak she's had since she was young. As long as she wears it the night of the full moon, she won't transform."

"Hmm…" He was rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "Clever… and potentially useful."

Emma decided to press Hook again while he was still distracted by her revelation. "So then you agree? We'll go to Tortuga first and then make way for the palace."

Hook shook his head slightly in exasperation, but his upturned lips gave away his acceptance of their detour. "You are the most stubborn, infuriating, and prideful woman I've ever met. It's a damn good thing you're the loveliest or I would've thrown you overboard long ago."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"As well you should." He snagged her wrist with his hook, pulling her forward into a kiss.

His mouth slanted over hers while his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, something she willingly granted; she loved the way he always tasted faintly of rum. They were still at the helm, in clear view of the entire crew, but Emma couldn't care less as she clutched at his shirt, pulling them together, pressing her body to his. His hand slid up her back before coming to rest at the nape of her neck, the feather-light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps.

After a moment, he ended the kiss, pulling away to press his forehead to hers. They were both breathing heavily; she wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to just how good he was at… well, at everything.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Captain?"

He smirked and his eyes darkened as they often did when she called him by his title; the reference to his rank always seemed to thrill him in a completely different way than when she called him by his given name.

"Mmm… perhaps. Is it working?"

She cocked an eyebrow and her voice mirrored his husky tone. "Perhaps."

And she felt the rumble of approval in his chest as his lips captured hers once more, this time more insistently. Her hands abandoned his shirt, moving to wind around his neck instead, and his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her and holding her to his chest as he kissed her deeply. With Hook's arms around her, she felt like she was floating just as much as the ship that had floated through the sky.

"Shall we adjourn to our quarters?"

"Hook, it's the middle of the day."

"And?"

"You're incorrigible." The chastisement was made pointless by her laughing and the fact that she was already pulling him towards the cabin.

Four hundred eighty-five days

Despite the Jolly Roger being the fastest ship in the realms, it still took them a little over three weeks to reach the port town that was her second home – or third, since Hook's ship had also begun to feel like home. They made the most of the calm before the storm, spending time together both on the ship's deck where they completed the everyday tasks that came with being at sea and within the confines of the cabin where they memorized every detail of each other as if they were running on borrowed time. The journey would've been peaceful had the urgency of the circumstances not been hovering over their heads.

Emma was in the crow's nest admiring the lowering sun, its evening rays stretching out in beams to the spattered clouds and turning them brilliant shades of red, orange, and pink, when she spotted it in the distance. It was so faint, it was almost indiscernible, but the longer she stared, the more it appeared – a small streak along the horizon that slowly but surely grew into a coastline. Abandoning the crow's nest, Emma scrabbled down the rigging and made her way to Hook.

"Tortuga?"

"Aye. We'll be there by nightfall."

She hesitated at his curt tone. "Are you alright? You've been acting different since we've returned." It had been subtle at first, an edginess she wasn't accustomed to seeing in the pirate, but had steadily grown into an all-out tenseness. Hook did a better job at most of masking his feelings, and he'd attempted to hide the tension, tried to cover it up with his usual charm and innuendos, but Emma was still able to pick up on the difference.

The sigh wasn't audible, but Emma could see the deep breath he took. "I'm fine, love." She was strongly reminded of her mother saying the same thing to her father when she was very clearly not fine.

"You know, it's okay to admit if you're nervous." There was a playful lilt to her words, but at the same time, she meant them. She'd never tell Hook directly, although it was likely he already knew, just how much it meant when he confided in her things he wouldn't tell anyone else. "_I'm_ nervous."

The stress that had lined his features smoothed away and his tone took on the playfulness hers had. "Fine, I'm nervous. Happy?"

But Emma wasn't entirely convinced. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes and that strange ability of hers to know when someone was lying was niggling at the back of her mind. He wasn't lying… but he wasn't telling the truth either. Their trust and understanding of each other had grown deep over the years, so the fact that Hook was clearly holding something back made her slightly uneasy. Worrying about it wouldn't do her any good, though, so she dropped the line of conversation, figuring he would either work through it on his own or talk to her when he was ready.

"I guess." She said it blithely, maintaining her teasing tone despite the fact that his had been forced. Then, after a light kiss, she made her way to the main deck and watched as the coastline drew ever closer, the smudge of land slowly forming the cliffs, forests, and buildings of Tortuga.

The Jolly Roger eased up to make port, and everything was quickly forgotten as Emma stepped foot on the dock, a wave of nostalgia flooding her body as she made her way through town, Hook shadowing her silently. The dilapidated docks still sported old boards that sagged from years upon years of use, the trail to her old practice clearing was now overgrown from the year of abandonment, the red lights of the brothels shone on the women lounging about outside calling to passerby, and The Salty Dog Inn's weathered sign still hung crookedly above the door.

Anticipation whirled in her stomach as she approached the inn. Emma hesitated a moment, hand poised inches from the latch, until she felt the steel of a hook touch lightly to her lower back in support before finally opening the door. And it might have been over a year since Emma had stepped foot in The Salty Dog Inn but not a single thing had changed. The sights and smells and sounds… all of them exactly the same.

"If you're looking for a place to stay, you'll have to go somewhere else. We're completely booked." Hook stood between her and the voice, but the familiarity of it brought a faint smile to Emma's lips.

"We're not here for a room, mate."

"Then I trust you can either find your way to the bar or find your way out." Still all business; August hadn't changed a bit.

"We're not here for a drink, either."

At that, Emma decided it was time to step from behind Hook. "Hey, August." When his eyes shifted from Hook to her, he gaped and seemed to dissolve into a momentary state of shock. "It's been a while."

"Holy hell…" He mumbled the words, but then repeated the phrase with more conviction. "Holy hell."

"You'll catch all the flies in the inn if you keep your mouth hanging open like that." It was something he used to tell her when she was younger and was first being exposed to the lecherous men that frequented the bar.

"Ruby, get in here!" August yelled it out as he stumbled to his feet and grabbed for the edge of the reception desk. It seemed he didn't quite trust himself to cross the distance between them yet.

The three of them stood there without moving until Emma heard another familiar voice. "She said to tell you she's busy and to bugger off. Is everything alright?" The huntsman came to a stop, visibly paling when he noticed her, and turned on his heel, disappearing back into the bar without another word. There was a slight commotion before Graham reappeared, dragging a complaining Ruby into the entrance hall.

"What the hell is going on? Do you not see all the people in there? You act like I have all the time in the world to just…" The words died, trailed off as Ruby's eyes finally landed on Emma. It only took a second for her to recover, though, because then she was rushing forward and pulling Emma into a tight hug only to step away moments later to fix her with a glare.

"Where have you been?! We didn't know what happened to you. I mean, we got a note before you disappeared, but it didn't really explain where you were going… and you've been gone over a year and we haven't heard anything from you. Fuck, Emma, do you know how worried we've been about you. For all we know you could've been dead… god, you have so much explaining to do!"

The anger in Ruby's voice wasn't anger at all but concern and worry and relief, and Emma took the brunette's tirade in stride. "I'm so sorry, Ruby. I wanted to come back, but I couldn't."

"Was it because of this bastard?" She pointed accusingly at Hook, his eyes widening at being the focus of the anger. "I swear to all the gods, I'll kill him."

Ruby began to move, but Emma grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. "Stop, Ruby, it wasn't his fault! He saved me." Based on the shocked looks, her words were unexpected, but they'd done the job of effectively calming her friend who continued in a much lower voice.

"He saved you? From what?"

None of what they need to talk about could be said around potentially eavesdropping ears. "Do you have some place we could talk? In private?"

"Yeah, we can go to our room." She looked to Ruby, surprised. "What, you thought I'd move back in with Dad and August? No way. I kept everything exactly how it was… I guess I never really gave up hoping you'd come back." And Emma had to blink away the wetness that had gathered in her eyes at her friend's sentiment.

The entire group made their way upstairs, August brushing off Ruby's snarky comment on leaving the bar unattended, and they entered the room Emma and Ruby had shared since they were twenty-two. While her friend's side had changed slightly over the past year, Emma's remained the same, right down to the patchwork quilt covering her still-unmade bed. Ruby, August, and Graham were having a whispered conversation on the far side of the room as she meandered over to her bed, fingering the quilted material lightly, and it wasn't long before she felt Hook's calming presence beside her.

"So this was your bed?" Of course, he'd never seen it. Back then, she was still studiously pretending that she didn't want him.

"Yeah. It's smaller than I remember." She could feel his gaze on her, and feeling suddenly cheeky, continued with a smirk. "I told you we both wouldn't have fit in here." It was so long ago. He'd been harassing her at the bar after a lesson when he'd made the comment about being too drunk to go back to his ship and that she should just let him stay with her.

"It was a convenient excuse, but as you well know, I can make anything work."

"Not always with the best results, though."

"I don't know, love. I think that evening on the hammock turned out fairly well. It might have been quite a bit of work, but you certainly seemed to enjoy it." And she couldn't help but blush at the reminder of them in the hammock, trying not to fall between the knots of rope or flip entirely even as they remained unwilling to stop touching each other.

"Or what about that bit with the tree limbs? There would have been sand everywhere – and I literally mean everywhere – without that makeshift cot." The limbs had turned out to be incredibly uncomfortable, but she'd been the one that issued the challenge, telling him she'd give in if he could find a way to keep them out of the sand.

"Oh, and remember that time in the crow's nest? I'm sure you do. I'm quite proud of that one." The crow's nest was barely big enough for one person. She still wondered how he'd managed to squeeze up there with her and do everything he had without knocking the both of them to their deaths.

"Why are they all related to sex?" She cocked a teasing eyebrow. "I'm sensing a pattern here; is that the only time you can 'make anything work'?"

He paused, considering, before flashing a smirk. "No, those just happen to be examples of some of my better moments."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "You're such a pirate."

"You wouldn't have me any other way." Which was true.

"Emma?"

She turned to look at her three friends who had apparently finished whatever private conversation they'd been having. They stood there, waiting for her explanation of what had happened and where she'd been for the past year, but Emma felt like it was only yesterday that she'd last been here. So much about the town, the inn, her friends still looked the way it had before she'd left, and as Emma stared at the three people before her, she began to consider the possibility that time had stood still for Tortuga much as it had in Neverland.

Except that things weren't the same.

Everything had changed.

"It started the afternoon before I disappeared."

And with that, Emma explained everything that had happened during her absence. The attempted assassination, Hook's stalling of the dark magic, the trip to Neverland, the pixie's cure, the loss of their memories, the revelation of the curse, the truth of her heritage. All of it spilled out in a rush, while August, Ruby, and Graham listened on in silence.

It was funny, really. Every situation Emma and Hook had experienced had seemed so dire, so desperate, so shocking. Now, looking back on it as she spoke, Emma couldn't help but think how the whole story would make a wonderful fairytale one day if they succeeded. Maybe that was how all good fairytales came into being, though. The tale of Prince Charming waking Snow White from the sleeping curse to live happily ever after was fanciful, something often told to children before bed. What they didn't know was how bloody hard everything had been for them up to that point.

As she wrapped up with how they only had sixty days left to find a way to break the curse, she was met with continued silence. Just as she was beginning to believe that they were going to handle the news better than expected when they all three began talking at once.

"You're a princess?"

"You went to Neverland?"

"You're cursed?"

"You're leaving again?"

"Yes." She didn't need to clarify which one she was answering since that one word worked for all four questions. After a pause, she meekly suggested the primary reason for her wanting to stop in Tortuga first. "I was hoping you might want to come with us."

Ruby snorted in a distinctly sarcastic way just as August spoke first to her and then to Hook. "As if we would just stay here. Is there room for us aboard your ship?"

A sharp nod. "Aye. We'll push off as soon as you're ready."

And at that, Ruby dug out a bag and moved to the dresser. Emma was just about to walk over to help her pack when all the lights in the room went out. Emma froze in the sudden darkness, while Ruby let out a small squeal and August cursed under his breath when it sounded like he kicked a piece of furniture.

The metal pieces of the two lanterns they'd been using popped in the eerie silence, and Emma noticed that the fire was completely smothered, not even glowing coals remained. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she realized there was something else at work here. Hook apparently had the same idea. When she reached out her hand, it almost immediately found his and he pulled her to his side.

"Emma…"

But nothing more was said because at that moment the door slammed open and she felt hands grabbing at her, pulling her away from Hook. They held on, her fingers curling around his, until a body crossed between them and broke their hold. She heard Hook yell as the hands grabbed ahold of both her arms now, wrenching them behind her back in an attempt to subdue her, but she was already fighting, throwing her head back and making contact with a sickening crunch even as she saw stars at the jarring impact. The hands loosened enough for her to rip an arm free and she jammed her elbow back into the body behind her, causing the arms that held her to slacken even more.

The sounds of fighting filled the room, but Emma knew her friends would be unable to fight back effectively. Their attackers moved accurately around them, almost as if they could see, but in the darkness, Emma and her friends were limited to hand-to-hand combat unless their opponent was right at them. To pull out a sword would be to risk injuring an ally instead of a foe. Still, Emma knew where her attacker was. If she could only reach the knife in her boot…

She twisted in the arms that held her, breaking their hold, and hands grabbed desperately at her clothes and arms in an attempt to keep her from escaping. With one last violent turn, she felt the last hand lose grip on her arm and lurched forward, hand immediately reaching for the small blade. She was almost there when someone grabbed her hair, the sudden hold jerking her to a stop with a pained yelp. The person pulled roughly and she fell to the floor with a loud crash, landing on something hot that burned at her back and sent blades of pain shooting up her arm.

The foe dragged her backwards, away from the rest of the fighting, and she clawed at the hand fisted in her hair. When they stopped, hands came from nowhere to hold her arms and legs down, and although she couldn't see, Emma could feel the body that crouched above hers. With a sudden puff of foul breath, a strange powder filled her nose, overwhelming her every sense.

She coughed and sneezed, trying to avoid breathing in the substance, but it dragged her under into an even deeper darkness.

* * *

**Welcome back to the Enchanted Forest.**

**On a side note – is it March yet? Geez, that winter finale… I've never wanted three months to go by so fast in my life!**

**Thanks to everyone for reading/favoriting/following! I also want to give out a special thank you to everyone that takes the time to review! I love knowing what all of you think :)**


	12. Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

**A Huntsman and A Wolf**

"_She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire."_

* * *

"I haven't seen you around here before, sailor."

The newcomer grabbed the tankard and tipped it towards Emma in a toast before taking a long drink. "First time I've been here. And I'm not a sailor."

It made sense. With his neutral-colored attire – all tan and green and brown – and buckskin boots, he seemed to belong more in the woods than at sea. "Well if you're not a sailor, what brings you to Tortuga? This isn't exactly a popular place for tourists." In truth, it wasn't a popular place for any person not equipped to handle the rouges that came through town.

"I'm a huntsman. People hire me to find things, to hunt things, and it's not always animals." The implication was simultaneously intriguing and disconcerting. "Unfortunately, my last job was a setup so now I'm on the run… figured a pirate town was as good a place as any to hide out."

Great minds think alike.

"We have enough problems of our own to deal with so I hope you didn't bring trouble with you."

Although, with wavy hair falling into his eyes and a beguiling grin, spending time with the handsome man was almost worth any trouble that followed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Ruby stalked up, voice edgy. "Emma, we need to switch." A patron must have been harassing the brunette badly for her to request the trade. August had repeatedly reminded them that avoiding violence in the bar was preferable, so the two barmaids would usually switch places before resorting to using the club.

"Sure thing, just let me…"

"You are most beautiful."

They both turned to the seated huntsman, and as he gazed fixatedly at her friend, Emma could see her chances of going home with the handsome stranger fly right out the window. It seemed Ruby would be the lucky one tonight.

"Yeah, thanks."

But not if she shut him out like that.

Continuing to smile up at Ruby, he seemed unperturbed by the snub. "I'm Graham."

"That's nice."

With a sharp tug, Emma pulled her friend aside. "What's wrong with you? There is a perfectly handsome guy that is obviously interested in your perfectly gorgeous face and most likely wants to take your perfectly cute butt home with him. So why are you shutting him down?"

"After all the crap that guy at the bar was pulling, I'm not in the mood anymore."

"Bullshit." Ruby was never not in the mood.

"Collins is here."

Tortuga couldn't boast that it had many young, handsome, available men; most of them were old, grizzled sailors, roughened from years on the sea or working hard at the harbor. This meant that Ruby and Emma's options for an evening lover were usually limited to the younger sailors and pirates that ventured into town when their ships made port. Collins was the exception. A little older than both the girls and generally attractive, he was considered a catch in the port town, and had been an occasional evening companion of Ruby's for some time.

"Ok… as far as I know you two aren't exclusive. Plus, are you seeing the same thing I am? Seriously, look at him."

The brunette looked at her customary lover before shooting a sideways glance to the huntsman. Really, the two men weren't comparable at all. Emma could see the moment Ruby gave in, could tell it in the slight sigh she emitted and the small quirk of her lips that turned into a full on devilish smirk.

"He _is_ handsome."

* * *

When Emma came to, it was sudden, complete, and painful. Her head pounded, her body ached, and her lungs burned with the aftereffects of what she now recognized as poppy powder. The memory of the fight in the darkness flashed through her mind and her body jerked involuntarily in response, eyes immediately slamming shut at the pain that accompanied the movement.

"Easy now, love."

Hook's voice was soothing, as was the hand he placed on her cheek, and Emma slowly opened her eyes to focus on his face. His hair was slightly damp, there was a smear of blood across his forehead, and a bruise was beginning to form on his cheekbone, but his blue eyes still shone bright through the dimness of their surroundings.

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed by a group of pirates. They must have been waiting for us and followed us upstairs." With Hook's help, she moved to a sitting position, stubbornly ignoring his disapproving look when she winced in pain. Sure enough, they were aboard a pirate ship; more specifically, in the brig.

During their time in Neverland, the crew of the Jolly Roger had withstood a particularly strong storm that kept them cabin-bound for a few days. When the storm had passed, Emma had teased Hook mercilessly on how filthy the ship had become in the short time without its daily cleanings, despite its usually clean and organized appearance. Taking in the exceptionally unsanitary conditions of their current surroundings, she vowed never to tease him again.

"You think they were specifically after us?"

Turning to the side, she repositioned until she could rest against the bars, trying to ignore their slimy coldness. She spotted Ruby and August still asleep on the floor, while Graham crouched nearby watching over them carefully; their entire group had been captured and thrown into one of the two cells in the brig. But why?

"I find it hard to believe the attack and kidnapping to be a mere coincidence. And I have a feeling I know who's behind this."

Emma paused, glancing at Hook. "Regina." And he nodded curtly, expression grim. "Maybe they just overheard something and wanted to hold us for ransom."

"I've had more than my fair share of skirmishes with other pirates over the years, but I've never come across any that were in the possession of magical items." The instant loss of light in the room and the fact that their attackers had been able to see despite the darkness were both telltale signs of magic. "It's not something we typically dabble in."

"If this was Regina's doing, why bother taking any of you? I'm the one she wants."

"Convenience, maybe. We were all there; they might try to sell the rest of us off as slave labor in the distant islands." It was the first time Emma had heard of slavery still being practiced, even in the outer reaches of the kingdom, and she decided to revisit that particular item if they survived. "Or they could've decided to take us all just to be safe. No people left behind to raise the alarm and possibly send out a search party."

She thought of The Salty Dog Inn's owner. He'd never been the overly caring sort of father, but she knew without a doubt he loved his children. "Geppetto will know August and Ruby are missing."

"But not right away." And Hook was right; their absence would probably be written off and attributed to a bad hangover until they both failed to appear for their shifts the following evening. "That delay is enough of a head start."

She peeked his way to find him staring at her. "I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact that what you're saying makes sense to me or the fact that you're saying it to begin with, like you know from experience."

Pirates would be pirates; they typically fended for themselves and lived by their own code of honor, each one distinct to the captain of the ship. Hook had shared most of his past with her, but she'd often wondered if he'd skirted around telling her certain details that might have been less than favorable. She hoped to all the gods she knew that he'd never committed deeds such as selling people into slavery.

"Knowing their motives just means I have the mindset of a pirate, not that I've ever taken part in such acts. As for you being able to understand what I'm saying… that just means you've turned into more of a pirate than you care to admit."

Emma rolled her eyes and returned her focus to Graham, watching as his thumb moved in small circles across the back of Ruby's hand. The implication of her being a pirate somewhat bothered her even as the rest of his words reassured her. His personal code of 'good form' apparently extended to far before she'd ever met him; had kept the once proper, royal navy lieutenant from delving into some of the darker parts of piracy.

"It still doesn't make sense… if she needs me to die, why bother capturing me at all? She sent that assassin before; what stopped her from doing the same again?"

"Well, the last time she tried that route, it didn't end quite how she'd planned. Regina might have figured it safer to bring you back alive and then have you killed there."

"Or she just wants to kill me herself."

What a morbid thought.

Her parents had skimmed over some of the grislier details of the Evil Queen's abilities, but she had found out from others in the palace – namely, Grumpy – what Regina was capable of. Having her heart ripped from her chest and crushed before her eyes was not something Emma was eager to experience. Being killed by the mermaids in Neverland suddenly didn't seem as bad; at least that way she would have died fighting.

"How did she even know we were in Tortuga? We've been gone for over a year."

"She could have had sentries placed there… or spies." But they never got the chance to delve any further into that line of questioning because Ruby chose that moment to wake up with a harsh cry. Immediately, Graham was leaning over her, speaking to her softly and comfortingly, assuring her that everything was alright – even though it wasn't. They were alive, sure, but for how long, no one could say.

Needing to see her friend, wanting to make sure she wasn't injured, Emma moved to stand only to collapse back against the bars, her head making contact with a dull ring. The pain was fleeting but had been unexpected and sharp enough in the moment to draw out a strangled hiss of pain. Her head slowly ceased its jangling from the impact with the cell, and she came to realize Hook had snagged her wrist with the metal appendage while his fingers probed uncomfortably at her forearm, side, and back.

"We need to dress your arm."

More wounds…

Emma recalled the pain she'd experienced when she'd fallen back at the inn. During the chaos of the fight, there hadn't really been time to process the extent of her injury, but now she was able to see the damage that had been inflicted. Dried blood was crusted in the sleeve of her shirt, and the gash in the fabric revealed a number of scratches along with five or six tiny incisions, one of which still held a jagged piece of glass. The crunching, the piercing pain in her arm, the burning against her back… she must have fallen on one of the still-hot lanterns they'd been using before the commotion.

The pain in her arm was a dull, stinging pain that was more of a nuisance than anything, but the burn on her back was what had prevented her earlier movement, pulling as she tried to stand. Burns had a nasty way of crusting over only to crack open again later; if she were to inspect the wound now, there would no doubt be open lines that cut through the healing skin.

"Do you think your friend could lend us a strip of fabric from her cloak?"

"No."

It wasn't even an option.

His eyes shot to hers as he cocked an eyebrow imperiously. "Taking a piece from the hem won't injure her any further. She'll be fine." Since he was already rising and moving away from her, Emma was forced to ignore the pulling of her burn as she reached out to grab the end of his sleeve.

"That cloak is the only thing that keeps her from transforming at the full moon." It wouldn't do for their pirate captors to hear of Ruby's little secret, so Emma kept her voice quiet. "If you mess it up… we've never had to figure out what might happen if the cloak is damaged and I'd rather not test it now, not while we're trapped in a cell with her."

There had been an instance a few years back when a troublemaking kid had swiped Ruby's cloak the night before the full moon. Left without a way to prevent the transformation, Emma had been forced to secure her friend for the night to ensure she wouldn't be free to roam and potentially kill anyone. At the time, Ruby had told her she was able to retain cognitive thoughts in her other form to a certain degree, but the fearsome creature that had alternated between pacing restlessly and lunging against its bonds hadn't been the most reassuring sight. Emma had no desire to test a werewolf's power of resistance without any way of escape.

"You can use pieces from my top. It's already messed up anyway."

Hook seemed to hesitate for a moment before sighing exasperatedly and dropping back down beside her. The soft ripping sound of her shirt drew Graham and Ruby's attention and Emma smiled reassuringly at the pair.

"I hope you're not too attached to this shirt, love, because I daresay it's ruined after this."

It stung when he pulled out the piece of glass, but she was grateful for its removal. Being able to feel its presence every time the muscle that surrounded it moved had been incredibly uncomfortable. Hook calmly cleaned her arm and examined the burn on her back; it wasn't the first time she found herself thinking that, for a pirate that operated using one callous-covered hand and a hook, he was always surprisingly gentle.

"Stupid pirates…"

"Excuse me?"

He abandoned the inspection of the burn to pull back and stare at her. "I was just thinking about how Regina must have hired these guys. If pirates weren't so bloody greedy, we might not be in this predicament."

"Yes, greed is an unfortunate trait; although, it's shared by more people than just pirates."

Hook was right. There was no way the term could be strictly applied to pirates; not when it affected much of the populace of the Enchanted Forest. When greed was involved, honor could be compromised and loyalty could be bought, which no doubt played a part in their capture. With his eyes downcast and voice soft, Emma felt the sting of guilt at lumping him with her stereotypical idea of the group. Perhaps a change of subject would be best…

"Do you know this ship we're on?"

"Why should I? Because I'm a pirate?"

Ouch… so maybe he wasn't willing to let her generalizations drop so quickly. "I just thought that, if you knew the captain, you might be able to convince him to help us."

Emma had offended him; that much was clear. His eyes remained trained on her arm as he calmly dressed the wound and pointedly ignored her. It hurt to know that she'd inadvertently hurt him.

"You're more than just a pirate, Hook." Using his hand and teeth, he tightened the wrappings and sat back to slowly meet her eyes. "And I didn't mean to insinuate that you're greedy."

It was her saying she was sorry without saying 'I'm sorry' and seemed to be enough for him as he let it drop. "I may have had an… encounter with this ship and her captain before." His hesitation spoke volumes. "Let's just say I'm not the most welcome pirate aboard this vessel."

Whatever meeting the two captains had in the past had clearly burned any bridges that would help them to escape their current plight. There would be no hope at swaying their captor's allegiance and they would receive no aid.

They were stuck.

Their time in the brig passed slowly, minutes turning into hours that turned into days. It was hard to keep track of time; the only glimpse to the outside world they ever saw was when one of the crew would venture down to deliver meals, but Graham estimated that it had been roughly a week and a half since they'd been kidnapped. During that time, Emma was plagued by a bout of insomnia. Sleep was hard to come by, and when it did come, it was plagued with nightmares that led to an all-around fitful sleep that was almost not worth having.

It was on one of those restless nights that Ruby approached Emma, leaving her place by the sleeping huntsman's side to sit against the bars. Being thrown in the same cell had its advantages – they were all together – but it also had its disadvantages – they were all together. The constant presence of the men had left absolutely no time for the two girls to talk about anything personal and was starting to lead to testosterone overload.

"Can't sleep?"

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried. This storm… ugh."

All of her time spent on the Jolly Roger had conditioned Emma to life on the water. It had taken a little while for her to adjust during those first few days, but she'd quickly moved past the initial seasickness and arrived at a point where she now didn't even really notice the harsher-than-normal swaying of the ship that accompanied the outside storm. Ruby, on the other hand, had never spent much time at sea, despite having lived her entire life in a port town, which was now causing problems. Even in the dim light of the brig, Emma could see the slightly green tint in her friend's face.

"Here's the bucket if you need it." Their pirate captors had reluctantly given them a bucket after seeing Ruby's condition after the first day. The ship was disgusting but apparently the crew drew the line at swabbing yesterday's regurgitated meal.

"Thanks."

The brunette took a deep breath, most likely to quell the churning she no doubt felt in her stomach. It was funny how Emma's stomach churned just the same, although hers had nothing to do with seasickness and everything to do with what was going to happen when they arrived at their destination. She tried not to think about it, did her best to keep her mind occupied with other things, but their current accommodations didn't offer many distractions.

"So now that we finally have some time to ourselves, what's the deal with you and…" Ruby motioned to Hook who was sleeping in one of the far corners of the cell.

Emma paused, watching the pirate for a moment. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, like he'd never had to go through three hundred years of suffering. "That… is a long story."

That was also an understatement.

"You finally gave in, huh?"

"I could ask you the same thing." It had only been a sneaking suspicion that night they'd arrived in Tortuga – the fact that Graham followed them upstairs, how they stood just a little too close to be casual, a few secret glances between them – but being able to observe them together since then had confirmed it.

Ruby chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I guess we're both fools at heart."

"I still took a while."

"I figured as much." It used to be said that Ruby was the only one who truly knew her, but now she had to share that label with Hook. "I didn't. Take long, that is."

"It's probably a tie. You were pushing Graham away long before I ever met Hook."

Ruby nodded thoughtfully. "When you disappeared… Emma, I'd never been so worried in my life. Everyone was saying it, that you were dead, and we went so long without hearing from you that I couldn't help but start to consider it. I didn't want to believe it, though; you have to know that."

And Emma did, although she wouldn't have faulted Ruby if she had given up because a year and a half was a long time to hold out hope for something.

"I spent all those years telling myself not to get too involved with Graham, convincing myself that it would only end bad. You being gone, though, it made me think." Ruby's gaze drifted to the sleeping huntsman. "What if something happened to me? Nothing like what's going on with you, obviously, but something that kept me from him, kept me from telling him how I really felt. It hurt – like, physically hurt – the thought of never seeing him again, and I knew if I didn't tell him how I felt, it'd be something I'd regret for the rest of my life."

"What did he say when you told him?"

Ruby's eyes met hers again. "I didn't so much verbally tell him. One night, I just didn't leave. I stayed with him." And that was a prime example of actions speaking louder than words. "It was perfect, Em. I just laid there with him and eventually he realized I wasn't going to leave so he held me; didn't really say anything, just held me all night."

Emma wasn't a crier – never had been, never would be – but right then she had to blink away the tears of happiness for her friend that were threatening to form. Old habits die hard; it couldn't have been easy for the woman to let go of all the stubborn years spent protecting her heart.

"Ours wasn't quite that calm."

"That's because of all that damn sexual tension you had going on. It was insane. You two trying to resist each other was like playing with fire."

Fire – the perfect word to describe their relationship. It had started with a smolder, simmering at the edges, able to either grow or be put out. It had strengthened into a small flame, enough to get her attention, warm enough for her to miss it would it die out. Now, it was a blaze, raging within, consuming all of her. She couldn't put it out if she tried.

"You two were made for each other. I knew it the moment you saw him, could see it in your eyes. You were gone."

They made attempts at escaping during their time on the ship, futile efforts that resulted in nothing more than reduced rations as a punishment. And so it was with growling stomachs and disheartened attitudes that they reached the Evil Queen's palace. They were unceremoniously pulled from the brig, given a brief glimpse of the towering castle, and met the head of the queen's guard - _"You're a hard lass to find"_ – before being marched into the dungeons.

The hands on her arms were firm, but Emma struggled fruitlessly against her captors as they dragged her and her companions down dark hallway after dark hallway. Left, right, right, straight, left… it was impossible to keep track of their progress. With so many twists and turns, and the fact that everything looked the same, it wouldn't do them much good to escape as they'd most likely just get lost trying to maneuver back through the passages. The one thing that Emma was able to tell was their constant downward slope. Wherever they were going, it was deep underground.

A few more turns and then, after making one last right, their destination was revealed; the corridor they'd been following opened up into a chamber that dead-ended in a row of cells that lined the wall in front of them. One lone sentry stood waiting, two cell doors unlocked and open. Out of one cell and into another.

They approached, but before they could be deposited in the waiting cell, the man by that had been waiting for them reached out, grabbed Emma's arm, and pulled her away from her prior captors. Hot, rank, alcohol-laced breath washed over her face when he spoke.

"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" The words were accompanied by an unsettling leer. "Personally, I'm partial to blondes, but the queen was very specific when she said not to mess with the princess." The man's dark eyes shifted over her shoulder to Ruby. "But she didn't say anything about the others."

Graham's voice echoed in the chamber as the man moved past Emma and reached for Ruby. "Don't you dare touch her!" The exclamation continued to reverberate even as the man faced him.

"Oh, does this one belong to you?" The guard's words were accompanied by an unsettling leer. He turned back to Ruby, reaching out to run the back of his fingers down her cheek. "Do you belong to him, gorgeous? I don't see a ring, so he's not your husband. A lover, then?"

Both Ruby and Graham's jaws were tightly clenched; the tension in the air was palpable. One look at Hook's expression confirmed the direness of the situation. Rape had never been a very big threat in Tortuga since most of the women were more than willing to bed a man; however, some men would fixate on a certain woman and refuse to settle for anyone else. The two barmaids had been fortunate enough to never be on the receiving end of such a situation, but they'd heard enough alarming stories to take precautionary measures. Here, though, there was little they could do.

"What do you think… maybe he'd like to watch? He could watch while we have some fun. He might enjoy it."

The hand drifted lower, moving past Ruby's collarbone towards the curves that were still apparent despite the shirt, vest, and cloak she wore. The brunette had always been feisty – her father called her a spitfire – and it showed when she spat in the guard's face before the appendage could reach its destination. Her action successfully halted the man's advances. A drop of saliva dripped from his nose, and he calmly wiped away the remaining spittle before his hand shot out without warning.

The crack was loud as the forceful slap turned Ruby's head and pulled a startled cry from her. Instantly, Graham was in action. He struggled against the arms that restrained him with a fury; even August joined in, reaching forward to pull on the men that held the huntsman. There were too many guards to fight, but Graham managed to break free just long enough to connect his fist with the man's face before being subdued once more.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Hands held up to his face, the guard stumbled back and glared through watering eyes. "Damn it! Fucking bastard broke my nose!" He strode forward to fist a hand in the front of Graham's shirt. "Looks like you need to be taught some manners."

Before anyone could react, the man had signaled to his companions and Emma found herself being shoved into the cell. Stumbling forward, her foot caught on a jagged piece of rock that sent her tumbling down to land in a puddle of water on the floor.

"Emma, are you ok?" Ruby knelt beside her.

"Yeah, but…" August and Hook stood in the adjoining cell. The two women followed their line of sight to watch as Graham was pulled around a corner and out of sight. His defiant yells continued until they were cut off by what sounded like a punch. Ruby ran to the front of the cell just as a new sound reached them.

It was horrible.

The cracking of a whip echoed in the dank dungeon, the sound of it curling around the cells until Emma could almost swear she felt the sting of it on her own back. Ruby stood, knuckles white with the force with which she gripped the bars of the cell.

_Three._

For the first few lashes, the crack was the only sound, but as it continued, they began to hear a muffled grunt. Her parents would never in their life condone such a despicable act, and Emma felt a flash of anger that evil such as this even existed in the world.

_Seven._

The muffled grunt began to give way to pained yells and curses emitted through gritted teeth. When Emma noticed that Ruby's body was literally shaking, she stood and gathered her into a hug, hearing the quiet crying and feeling the hot tears soak into her shirt.

_Eleven._

The yells ceased, the lack of response from the huntsman almost more horrible than his cries of pain. Emma's eyes found Hook's in the other cell and her stomach clenched at the mix of anger, distress, and hopelessness she found there.

_Fifteen._

The last crack resonated in the deep silence that followed.

Ruby pulled away and returned to clutch at the bars, craning her head to try and get a glimpse of anything besides the rock walls that surrounded them. Metal clanked, followed by a thump that could only be the huntsman falling to the floor. A shaky breath forced its way out at the thought of his dead body, but she quickly pushed it away. She couldn't afford to think like that.

A scraping sound filled the air. It grew louder, only punctuated by the sound of footsteps and Emma's own heavy breathing, before the source finally turned the corner. Two guards had Graham by the arms and were dragging him back to the cell; the original instigator had disappeared. Ruby's strangled shout filled the air at the sight, but the huntsman didn't even twitch at the sound.

_He's not dead. He's not dead. He's not dead._

The words were repeated in her mind like a mantra as if trying to convince herself of their truth. The guards released his arms to unlock the cell, and he flopped to the ground, head smacking against the rock floor painfully, but remained motionless. One guard worked at the key while the other drew a sword, brandishing it at Hook and August who were forced to retreat to the back of the cell as the door finally opened and they pulled the motionless body into the space. He was dropped carelessly yet again and then the guards were gone.

Immediately, Hook and August rushed forward and rolled him over while Emma and Ruby stood powerlessly at the bars between the cells, unable to see anything more than the two men working. There was ripping as Hook tore through the few strips of fabric of Graham's shirt that remained while August opened his eyes to check for dilated pupils and other signs of a concussion. Emma couldn't see much, but when the men finally moved and she was able to get a clear view of the huntsman, she almost wished she hadn't.

After spending over half of her life in the company of pirates, Emma was no stranger to violent injuries; the men that frequented the bar had often thought their various wounds would impress her – they didn't – and had never failed to show her. She'd believed that those experiences would have given her a strong stomach, but the sight of Graham's mutilated and torn flesh turned her stomach, the acid of it burning at the back of her throat and threatening to spill forth.

"Hook, can you clean him up?"

Still crouched over the motionless body, he didn't even look up at her question. "My clothes are too dirty. If I try to clean his wounds, I'm more likely to give him an infection than help him."

"Look at this place; it's disgusting. He's likely to get an infection either way." Clear shock and anguish filled Ruby's voice. Suddenly, Emma remembered her soaked shirt.

Water.

Turning to the far corner of the cell, she located the puddle she'd fallen in earlier and inspected the water. It was a decent amount, but what was more important was how it shimmered crystal clear in the dim light. There were no obvious contaminants. Emma traced the source back to a tiny fissure in the rock wall; if it was coming from some sort of underground spring, it would mean clean water.

Her focus was still on the liquid seeping from the wall as she called out to Hook and August. "There's water over here; I can't be sure, but I think it's spring water. If you two can get Graham closer to our cell, we could use Ruby's vest to clean him up."

"We can't move him." Everyone turned to look at August.

"Sure thing, but then you'll have to tend to him." Which she knew neither of the men wanted to do.

Hook had a decent amount of experience in tending wounds but looked unwilling to take on the responsibility of the huntsman, and she knew for a fact that August didn't have any experience at all. Having been responsible for the inn, he'd never taken part in the brawls and battles the pirates that frequented the establishment spoke of. The most he'd ever had to deal with was a broken nose he'd received in a bar fight.

"Do you have any idea how much it'll hurt if we move him?"

August's voice was harsh and filled with disdain, but Emma's was even harsher. "Then I guess it's a good thing he's unconscious right now because he won't feel a thing."

The two glared at each other for a moment before Hook stepped forward until he stood almost in front of August and her eyes were drawn to his. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her, but she knew from the look in his eyes that he understood the severity of cleaning the huntsman's wounds. He hadn't survived as a pirate for over three hundred years without learning what it took to survive.

"Help me move him." August remained motionless even as Hook knelt and took hold of a limp arm. "I can't drag him over there by myself without doing more damage." After another immobile moment, the pirate gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to her. "I thought you told me he would be helpful on this journey, Emma." It was obvious what Hook was doing and she remained dutifully silent.

"Have I not been?" The already chilly temperature in the dungeon seemed to drop a few more degrees at the icy tone to the barkeeper's question.

"Well, it seems to me you don't quite have the stomach to do what needs to be done; like you'd prefer to leave him here to fall victim to infection than hurt him a bit even though the lass will help." Emma could feel Hook's eyes on her but she continued to stare resolutely at August. "Perhaps you should have stuck to your ledgers, mate."

Hook's words were taunting, goading; hurtful things meant to cut deep and spur the man into action. And it worked. August's entire body seemed to twitch in anger before he strode over to grab the other arm. "Don't imply that I would prefer him dead."

Emma had spent more than half her life around August; she'd seen him glad and despairing, pleased and annoyed, proud and disappointed, and, on one rare occasion, lovesick. But she could honestly say she'd never seen him as furious as he was now. There was a disquieting glint in his eyes as the two men glared at each other for a moment before beginning to move Graham closer to the bars.

While the men worked at dragging the unconscious huntsman, Ruby ripped off her vest and handed it to Emma who dunked it in the shallow pool of water until it was thoroughly soaked. She rushed back to the group just as August and Hook positioned Graham beside the bars, his back now within reaching distance. Ruby had crouched down, her fingers touching lightly at her lover's shoulder before snagging his limp hand.

"Ruby, do you want to?"

Emma motioned towards the wounds, but the brunette shook her head faintly, eyes trained on their clasped hands. "I don't… not sure if I…"

"It's okay." It was cool in the dungeon, but nowhere near cold enough to be the sole cause of the trembling Emma could feel when she touched Ruby's shoulder comfortingly. "I'll do it."

As Emma pressed the cloth to the flayed back in front of her, the two men straightened and stared each other down. August's hands were clenched in fists and his body tense while Hook took on a more defensive stance even as he lifted his hands calmly. Even though she had been aware that the only reason for the pirate's words was to force August to help, the man had taken them to heart.

"You're a fucking bastard."

Ruby's voice was sharp. "Cut it out with your pissing contest, August. He only said that to get you to help so stop being an idiot and relax." And with a final, mumbled curse, August slumped against the far wall and glared into space.

Emma focused on Graham, cleaning away the blood, studiously pushing down the nausea that churned her stomach. Wipe, wipe, refold the vest. Wipe, wipe, refold the vest. As she worked, she tried to ignore the way the fabric occasionally pulled at the shredded skin. It was a good thing Graham was unconscious right now.

Ruby was muttering sweet reassurances, August was sulking in a corner, Hook was crouched down in front of her, Graham was bruised and beaten, and Emma was playing nurse. Nothing was right. None of this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to find her parents, break the curse, and… what, live happily ever after? That was a fairytale ending that wouldn't pan out so long as Regina was alive.

It wasn't fair.

But life wasn't fair.

Her companions, her friends, didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of a decades-long feud that was neatly topped off with a curse. But here they were, trapped in a cell in the Evil Queen's castle, all the same. Light glinted off the curve of the hook when it shifted. She didn't need to look up to know Hook was watching her.

"I'm sorry."

_For what August said. For being who I am. For dragging you into the mess that has become my life._

"Nothing to be sorry about, love. I've earned that title more than once in my life."

But what about the rest?

Emma was still ministering to Graham when they began to hear the echoing sound of footsteps. They grew louder, coming ever closer until they stopped. And although Emma had never seen the woman before, not even a portrait, and her parents had never described what she looked like during their numerous stories, she knew who it was that stood before them.

Regina.

The Evil Queen.

As a child, it seemed rational to imagine a twisted, ugly sort of woman when hearing the term Evil Queen; after all, she was the villain. But Regina was anything but ugly. Tall, dark hair swept up and styled into an elaborate design, high-necked and form-fitting black dress accentuating her figure and trailing to the ground. She was actually quite beautiful.

Too bad Emma knew of the darkness that simmered beneath the façade.

Her dark eyes swept over the entire group, lingering on each in turn, before settling on Emma, and a smug and completely wicked grin crept over her face. Of course she would be cocky. With a curse between them and a life on the line, having Emma at her mercy was like being able to say 'check' in a game of chess.

"You know, I'd almost given up hope."

"Well, I'm not dead yet." The words were angry and defiant, said through gritted teeth as she glared at the woman.

But Regina simply laughed in response. Perhaps Hook had been right in wanting to remain in Neverland. They hadn't known the outcome of the curse, if it would still be able to reach her through the realms, but at least if she had died there, she would've taken the queen with her. In their current situation, the odds were stacked against her. Her show of defiance was all bravado.

"Those are awfully big words for someone trapped in my dungeon to be saying, but it's inconsequential because I'm actually not talking to you." Emma's glare faltered for a second in her confusion. "I'm talking to him."

Every eye in the room turned to follow the queen's gaze and Emma felt her heart stammer.

"Oh, but didn't he tell you? He's been working for me this whole time."

And her heart ceased its beating as it burst into countless pieces, tiny shards of glass that were as sharp as the betrayal she felt.

"Isn't that right, Hook?"

* * *

**I'm sorry. Really.**

**All of the favorites and follows and reviews… you guys are beyond amazing! Hope you're all having a happy holiday season and thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Once Upon A Time. If I did, Emma and Hook would be together and Neal wouldn't even be in the picture.

Disclaimer: I also used a couple adapted lines from The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater – an excellent book that I highly recommend if you haven't read it yet.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

**A Past Revealed**

"_I, myself, am entirely made of flaws stitched together with good intentions."_

* * *

As Killian Jones, he'd been a lieutenant and loyal supporter of the crown. With the sting of his father's abandonment always behind him, he'd fixated on acts being right or wrong, black or white, good form or bad form. There was no gray, no in-between. He'd lived that way, following in his brother's footsteps and advancing from a promising new recruit in the naval guard to lieutenant on the Jewel of the Realm, the most prized ship of the kingdom. The world was open to him, ready to be explored, and he eagerly did so at the behest of a king whom he supported and believed in.

As Captain Jones, he'd taken control of his future, become his own man. Turning from his original beliefs, he was no longer willing to follow orders on blind faith alone. The confidence the freedom brought was remarkable, and it showed as he became a womanizer, taking advantage of his good looks and perfecting his charm to the point where, if he truly wanted a woman, she'd willingly end up in his bed. He travelled the realm, plundering and marauding at will, until one day he met a woman who showed him that there was more to life than he thought. She brought a new light to his life, a new happiness.

As Captain Hook, he was consumed by his rage, his anguish, and his need for revenge. The crocodile had stolen one of the few good things in his life, and three hundred years meant nothing so long as he could avenge her death in the end. He bided his time in the land that never changes until he eventually learned of a dagger, the only thing capable of killing the Dark One. The search for the item led him to a strange palace, a dark queen, and a deal, but he was a desperate man that was willing to do whatever it took. But then he met someone else, and like the woman three hundred years before, she made him reconsider his life, his mission. She made him want to change. She made him want to be better.

So who was he now?

Killian Jones. Captain Jones. Captain Hook.

He hardly knew anymore.

* * *

The girl was worthless. All the rumors he'd heard after arriving back in the Enchanted Forest – she had been his captive, she knew things about him, she loved him – had made him seek her out, sure that she would let something slip if he could only gain her trust. He'd spouted off some ridiculous story of her father being in danger, which turned out to be completely unnecessary. How ironic that all of the rumors had been true, yet she still knew nothing of the dagger.

Useless.

She was quite beautiful – a waste, really – but had to die so he could cover his tracks. The girl's life was spared, though, as his hook disappeared only to reappear in the hand of a woman standing at the cell door. Alluringly elegant and radiating self-assurance, she introduced herself as the queen and extended her congratulations for him having made it past her defenses before inviting him to join her for a drink. Not that he had much of a choice. In what appeared to be a quasi-depressing sort of sitting room, Regina cut right to the chase.

"I know all about you, Captain. The revenge you seek, the crocodile you wish to skin."

The events of Killian's past weren't exactly common knowledge anymore, especially since they'd occurred three generations before the current time. How the queen knew of his history with the imp was a mystery to him, but he couldn't deny that his curiosity was peaked. Throughout his life, few people had bested him, but this woman, with her magical abilities, had him quite literally at her mercy. There was little he could do to fend off magic should she choose to use it.

Clearly, Regina was a powerful opponent, one he would have to watch if he wished to stay alive.

"Then you have aged remarkably well, milady, since you would have to be very old indeed to know of my story."

Her mouth tightened in an unamused smile as she poured wine into two goblets and offered one to him. "Let's just say I have a bit of history with Rumplestiltskin."

He nodded sagely. "Ah, lovers of days long passed."

"Not that kind of history, Captain." Regina took a sip of wine. "I have information that will help you kill the Dark One."

A clever quip had been on the tip of his tongue, but her words stopped him cold as her previously secretive smile shifted into one slightly more tainted. It was too good to be true; had to be. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Many have tried to kill the imp and failed because of false information, and I have no desire to join their ranks so you'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word. Anyway, I already know what I need to find to kill him."

"But do you know _where_ to find what you need?"

He stared her down as she took slow steps in his direction, sauntering and swaying her hips in a way that would entice any man. "Surely a woman of your considerable means knows that he can only be killed by a specific, and so far frustratingly elusive, dagger." When only a couple feet remained between them, she stopped.

"It's only elusive because I made it so." Alright, he was well and truly interested. "A long time ago I made a deal with Rumplestiltskin when I happened to obtain his dagger. He agreed to leave me in peace so long as I agreed to hide the blade in a far off place where no one could ever acquire it, including myself."

"The dagger has the power to control and kill him. Why would you give that up?"

"At the time, my magic wasn't as powerful as it is now. I could never have bested him in a duel so I did the next best thing – made it to where he couldn't interfere. I just needed him out of my way while I strengthened my magic and rose to power." Her shoulders rose and fell in an elegantly casual shrug. "Plus, he's far more useful to me alive than dead; much like the girl you were going to kill."

Killian was inclined to disagree – the imp was far better dead than alive. Yes, dead; pierced by the fatal dagger and possibly Killian's own hook just for good measure. What a wonderful sight it would be, one he'd imagined for many years.

"So you see, if you help me, I'll tell you where to find the dagger and then you can go about fulfilling your revenge."

That was a problem. "I may be a mere pirate, but even I know the stories of what happens to those who break deals with Rumplestiltskin. If he finds out that you've broken your agreement by telling me where to find the dagger, he'll come after you."

"So concerned for my safety…" His eyebrow cocked imperiously at her mocking tone. "No worries, Captain, that's why I have Belle."

So the imp was also in love with the girl. Interesting.

"What would you have me do?"

That tainted grin had returned. "I need you to find someone; a woman – a runaway – named Emma Swan. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, pretty; she'll be roughly twenty-five now. I can't give any better of a description as she hasn't been seen in quite some time."

"Where would she be?" He needed something to go on since half of the women he'd bedded in his life matched the generic characteristics Regina had given.

"She doesn't want to be found. You're a pirate; you should know better than anyone the seedy places that people on the run like to hide." Which was true.

One last thing, though… "What business do you have with a runaway?"

"That is none of your concern." The words were sharp, but Regina relaxed as she touched a fingertip to his chest, dragging the nail slowly and seductively down his torso. "Find her, Hook. Find her and bring her back to me and you'll finally be able to skin your crocodile." Her eyes met his boldly, victoriously. "Do we have a deal?"

One woman. That was all that stood now between him and Milah's vengeance. Easy enough. His hook snagged the queen's wrist as he leaned towards her.

"I believe so."

* * *

Exactly one year, ten months, and twenty-three days later, he found Emma Swan working as a barmaid in a hole-in-the-wall inn and bar in Tortuga, although he didn't know at first that he'd found her.

The inn's tavern had been packed, clearly a popular place, and he'd had to wait in line at the bar, taking a moment to admire the leggy brunette that strutted around the room, before finally being able to order. That's when he saw her. She was nothing overly spectacular, but there was something about her – the way she carried herself or the fierce, determined look in her eyes – that gave him pause.

Intrigued, he'd resorted to his tried and true method of flattery and charm only to quickly realize that she was unique among women. It was obvious she was attracted to him, but instead of submitting to his typically fail-safe charisma, she'd resisted him, opting instead to match him quip for quip. It had been most refreshing. And when she'd finally sat down with him later that evening and continued to play hard to get, he'd decided right then that he had to have her.

Killian Jones was nothing if not determined.

When the fight broke out, he'd had a sneaking suspicion of Regina's involvement; the queen had been growing increasingly antsy during his search for the mysterious Emma Swan. Having frequented many a bar over the course of his life, he was no stranger to drunken brawls or even skirmishes between crews. But that one had been different. It was hard to put his finger on it, though. Something in the randomness of it or the unlikely coincidence that it spewed from the streets into that particular bar… or maybe it was just the gut feeling he had. Either way, he'd immediately ordered the lass to safety only to see her in the streets not long after looking like a damn imitation of Robin Hood as she shot arrow after arrow into an advancing group of pirates.

He'd been too busy gutting the men around him to take the time to truly admire the sight – her deadly focus and flawless marksmanship would surely have been a thing to behold – and by the time he had the chance to find her in the commotion once more, it was just in time to see the pirate approach her from behind. She would have been killed. No if's, and's, or but's about it. He'd rushed forward to save her before his mind was even aware of his actions, but the stark surprise and relief in her eyes when she saw her rescuer made it well worth it.

When the fight cleared out, it took the exhilarating rush of adrenaline with it, and left him with only that burning anxious feeling as he'd stared at the woman he'd saved. All of the chaos had left her with wide eyes, shallow panting breaths, and flushed cheeks, but she'd assured him she was uninjured. In that moment, she'd been so beautiful. It was also in that moment that she revealed her name.

Emma Swan.

Fate was a funny thing.

Even now, Killian could remember how his heart had skipped a beat at hearing those two words. All he'd have to do was grab her; no one would have known in the aftermath of the battle. He just had to deliver her to Regina and then he'd have finally been free to exact his revenge. But he'd hesitated, choosing instead to give his name in return before returning to the Jolly Roger. The revelation had made for a sleepless night spent contemplating what to do, playing through the details over and over in his mind. He'd finally found the elusive Swan only to discover he didn't want to give the fiery lass over to the Evil Queen.

So he'd left. Spouted off some bit about bad news coming up that he needed to handle – which was somewhat true considering he'd now have to lead Regina and her focus away from Tortuga – before pushing off. The queen turned out to be the one behind the attack, having received an anonymous tip that he'd insisted was false, and he'd directed her attention elsewhere, away from the port town.

Protecting Emma bothered him at first, and he'd attributed it to a passing infatuation, an obsession with the only woman who'd ever refused him. Over time, though, he reluctantly had to admit that it was more than that. He learned to brush aside the slight guilt he felt as he kept seeing her, teaching her, and spending time with her. And with each visit he could feel himself draw closer to her in a way that was more than mere attraction or desire.

In the end, he chose to keep silent.

In the end, he decided that his revenge could wait.

In the end, he chose Emma.

* * *

"You're drunk."

The air in the cabin was cold, but Emma's hands were warm as they wandered across his chest. She was bloody perfect, everything about her, and he wanted her so bad. He unconsciously pulled at her hips, pressing her even more firmly against him.

"Who cares?"

The words seemed important; something pulling at the last few shreds of sanity that remained in the lust that had taken over his mind. But how important could whatever he was trying to think of be? Surely it wasn't more important than the way their bodies were touching so intimately or the way her lips were trailing across his skin or the way her fingers just brushed him as she reached for the laces of his pants.

He simultaneously needed to get her out of those clothes and needed her fingers to stop shaking and work faster at his pants.

Her fingers…

_Her fingers._

His mind screeched to a halt – her fingers were shaking and suddenly the importance of her words made sense. Moving away from her in that moment was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

Her hands remained in the space he'd just vacated and she looked stunned at the sudden turn of events. "What's wrong?"

Everything. Everything was wrong because… "I'm absolutely sure I've never said this in my life, but I think we need to stop."

"You don't want this?" Eyes narrowed, voice disbelieving.

"On the contrary, love, I want this very badly." His aching body offered more than enough physical proof of that. "I want you more than I've wanted anything in longer than I can remember. But I'm a gentleman. And a gentleman never takes advantage of a drunken lady."

"For some reason, I find it hard to believe you've never had drunk sex before."

Touché, lass.

Perhaps he could really only be considered a gentleman with Emma since he'd had many a drunken woman in his past. But still, if there was one thing Killian Jones understood very well, it was rationalizing sex with alcohol.

"While that is true, I don't want that with you." Her gaze softened somewhat as he reached for her hair, the silky locks slipping through his fingers. "When you decide to stop resisting me, resisting us, I want it to be a sober and willing decision. I want you to remember choosing me, I want you to remember wanting me to take you, and I want you to remember every detail of it the next morning."

He'd have her; of that, he was sure. It might take a while longer without the numbing effects of alcohol flowing through her system, but she'd eventually give in. The frown remained on her face until he told her it was time for bed and picked her up. It was only a short distance to the sofa, but Emma did her best to wear him down. For the love of…

"You're a constant test of my self-control, woman."

"I don't want self-control right now." And the way she all but purred the words had Killian thinking things along the lines of 'bloody fucking hell' and 'why am I doing this again?' and 'it's not too late to change your mind.'

But she settled down, dropping the air of seduction as she laid back and pressed her hand to her forehead. All the alcohol she'd consumed was clearly taking its toll; it would be a surprise if she didn't have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

"I'm not going to remember this in the morning, am I?" She sounded so sad and forlorn.

"Most likely not, love. And even if you do, I'm sure you'll deny it and go right back to resisting me." She was the most stubborn and willful woman he'd ever met, but he had to admit that the game of denial she played certainly made things interesting.

He heard the faint hum as her eyes closed. "Only because you scare me."

What? How absurd…

"And when have I ever given you a reason to be scared of me?"

"Not scared _of_ you; scared of myself _with_ you." Killian's hand stilled its motion through her hair at her words. "I'm scared to let go."

A drunken mind speaks a sober heart.

It would most likely be the only time he'd ever hear her admit her feelings for him. And he had no idea if she was still conscious, might already be asleep, but he had to say it…

"So am I… but you make me want to."

* * *

Killian could remember a thousand little things from his life.

The way his father had sat with him on the beach when he was only a child and promised such big adventures, voyages to new and strange lands.

The way it felt when he woke up that autumn morning to find out his father had fled, abandoning him and his brother in a desperate attempt to escape the law.

The way his brother taught him to skip stones on the water and tie sailing knots, how he would tackle and roughhouse with him whenever the sting of their father's desertion crept up.

The way it felt when he'd saved his brother's life from that cursed and terrible plant only for him to die in his arms after returning from Neverland.

The way Milah's eyes literally sparkled and shone when he taught her how to steer the Jolly Roger and navigate by the stars.

The way it felt as he watched that sparkling light fade from her eyes in death.

Every person experiences moments they _think_ they'll remember for the rest of their life and moments they'll _actually_ remember for the rest of their life, but it's not often they turn out to be the same moment.

He expected to remember the feeling of Emma finally giving in to him, of the way his body burned at her touch, of the absolutely perfect way they moved together, of the sound of her voice as she told him she wanted him and breathed his name.

But he hadn't expected to remember the way he felt so normal, so content, so utterly at peace as he'd looked down at her afterwards, wrapped in his arms.

He hadn't expected it to feel so right.

* * *

"Have you given up on avenging her death?"

They stood at the helm, Killian maneuvering the Jolly Roger into the cove while Emma leaned against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. The question was quiet and unexpected since they rarely brought up those things that were most sensitive. Even still, he considered her words.

So much had changed in the years since he'd made that fateful arrangement with the Evil Queen. He had changed. But at the same time, he hadn't.

"It's not easy to give up on something you've held on to for so long."

The sea lapped at the edges of the ship, the wind rustled the sails overhead, and the men chattered as they went about their tasks, but there was only silence between Emma and Killian until she spoke again in an almost conversational tone.

"You know, my father used to tell me that as long as you remembered someone, they weren't really gone. I'm not sure that's true, though. My grandmother died a long time ago. I still remember her, but I don't really remember all of her. I remember what she looked like and the way she always smelled of peppermint… and sometimes I can still recall the way she laughed. But that's not really her. She was made of a thousand other things that I've forgotten, things that made her who she really was. So, really, she _is_ gone."

Killian remembered Milah.

He remembered her.

When he closed his eyes, he could see the way she'd looked when she came and asked him to take her away. He could remember her learning to steer the Jolly Roger and arguing with merchants when bartering for goods. But at the same time he couldn't remember whether her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled or if her laugh sounded different when she'd had too much to drink or the way her body had fit against his. The details had slipped away over the years and it scared the hell out of him. He wasn't supposed to forget…

"She wouldn't want me to forget."

"Are you sure?" It could have sounded sarcastic, could have easily come out in a condescending manner, but it didn't. The breeze stirring Emma's hair caught his eye, and Killian watched it swell and fall. "Life is a balance of holding on and letting go."

It was a huge gamble to take, investing time and love into a person with only the hope that the time spent together would be worth it in the end.

But his mind vehemently argued that it had been worth it. That even though the time they'd had together was too short and the pain of losing her tightened his chest even now, he didn't regret her. He could never regret her. Given the chance to go back, he would choose Milah over and over again, would relive her death a hundred times just to be able to experience the joy of those few years they'd had. With the memory of her running through his mind, the thought of letting a little more of her go instead of holding on to her so tightly caused an almost physical ache.

"Just remember that it won't bring her back." Emma's eyes were soft, the normally striking hazel more of a dark, forest green as she stared at him. "When you kill Rumplestiltskin and you don't feel better, don't be surprised."

In that moment, it seemed like the universe narrowed until they were the only two people in the world. "Why?"

"Because revenge isn't a beginning – it's an end."

And for the first time, Killian began to truly consider whether or not he could give up on his quest for revenge for good, if he could let go of the past and move forward into a future that consisted of him and the woman that stood before him.

* * *

Tinkerbell had to work hard at restoring his memories, quite a bit harder than she had during his last stint in Neverland. Maybe he was just rusty and out of practice; maybe it was because this time his journey wasn't shrouded in the darkness of his past. Whatever the reason, the return of his memories combined with the pixie's news of Emma's curse had brought a new and uncomfortable awareness to his past deal with Regina.

At the time, he hadn't understood why the queen had wanted the girl; she'd explained that Emma Swan was a runaway but nothing more. Knowing what he knew now – that Emma was a princess, one that was tied to the Evil Queen; bound by a curse that would result in nothing short of death – changed everything.

They had little choice; their only real course of action was to travel back to the Enchanted Forest, which was dangerous in more ways than one. They would have to make their way back to Emma's original homeland, to the kingdom of King Charming and Queen Snow. They would have to figure out the plan to break the curse that her parents had formulated in her infancy. They would have to complete the task all within their limited timeframe marked by Emma's thirtieth birthday. And they would have to do all of it while dodging the Evil Queen who would no doubt have eyes everywhere.

It would have been all too easy to stay in Neverland, let the magic creep up and steal their past again, remain in the happy oblivion they'd created for themselves. They could have lived there forever. Could have, being the key word. Honestly, he had no understanding of the workings of magic, had no idea whether or not the curse would work across realms. It was hard to think of returning, knowing what they'd have to face, but it was even harder to think of losing Emma altogether.

So they'd returned.

And Killian Jones didn't fear much, but he feared what was to come.

If Emma found out about his original deal with Regina, discovered how he fit into the scheme of things, he feared she'd never forgive him. Because despite the fact that he'd never fulfilled his end of the bargain with the queen, he'd never told her about the deal either. That, in itself, was a betrayal.

But he didn't have time to fear because time was running out.

The clock was ticking.

_tick tock tick tock_

* * *

"You know, I'd almost given up hope."

"Well, I'm not dead yet."

Regina's laugh was mocking, the kind where the person knew they'd won and victory was in clear sight, meant to smother any trace of optimism in the victim and inform them of just how little hope there was. But even though they were backed into a corner, trapped in the dungeon of the Evil Queen's castle, Emma continued to fight.

Oh, Emma.

Beautiful, prideful, stubborn, resilient, willful Emma.

Ignorant Emma.

"Those are awfully big words for someone imprisoned in a cell in my castle to be saying, but it's inconsequential because I'm actually not talking to you. I'm talking to him."

He should have told her. _Gods_, he should have told her when he had the chance because now it was too late. The heat of Emma's gaze was burning into him, but he couldn't look at her, could only glare back at Regina and the smug, triumphant smirk on her face. What he wouldn't give to be free from the cell, to be able to stop what he knew was coming, to prevent what she was about to say.

"Oh, but didn't he tell you? He's been working for me this whole time. Isn't that right, Hook?"

Killian couldn't hold the glare any longer, his focus dropping to the floor in front of him as his whole body shook in a combination of rage, frustration, and dread. He wanted to look at Emma – needed to see her face – but his eyes remained trained on the rocks.

"Is that true?" The words were quiet, almost a whisper, but they seemed to reverberate in the room, the sting of treachery laced in them very nearly making him wince. "Were you working with Regina this whole time?"

And when he finally did look at her, he almost wished he hadn't. She'd backed away from the bars to stand in the middle of the cell, arms wrapped tightly across her waist, with a look of complete and utter misery on her face. The light that normally filled her eyes was gone. Usually, they shone brightly, but now they were flat and cold as she stared at him, demanding answers. He'd spent years gaining her trust and breaking down her walls, had drawn her in and took pleasure in watching her slowly open up to him and eventually fall for him just as he fell for her. But all of their time spent together was for nothing because now they were broken. _She_ was broken.

And he'd been the one to break her.

"Not the whole time… but in the beginning…"

"Everything that's happened… everything you've told me was a lie." They were the words he'd been both expecting and dreading because nothing could be farther from the truth. It was all so wrong; everything was wrong. He moved forward to grip the bars between their cells, knuckles turning pale with the force, and opened his mouth to refute her statement when Regina cut in.

"You didn't honestly think you meant something to him, did you? That he actually cared for you?" The words were like pouring salt in an open wound, unnecessary and spiteful. "Oh, you did. How sweet… and naïve."

"Don't listen to her, Emma! You know me; you know how I feel about you." But really that was just speculation. Their relationship had been forged on witty banter, mutual attraction, and hundreds of little moments as they opened up to each other. But they'd never explicitly stated their feelings for each other, never laid it all out on the table, so to speak.

Killian knew what he felt for Emma, had struggled with the idea that he was simply replacing Milah during too many sleepless nights and over too many bottles of rum. But in the end, Emma had captivated him, made him throw his worries aside. Gods, he should have told her how he felt, and if they lived through this situation he'd never let a day go by without telling her…

"Hook was looking for you for years, trying to find you for no other reason than to bring you back here and trade you for a way to kill Rumplestiltskin. He's a pirate, sweetheart. You were nothing more than a means to an end."

"That's not true!"

"A bargaining chip."

"Don't believe her!"

"Just a simple trade."

"STOP!"

They all fell silent in the aftermath of Emma's outburst. Her hands were clenched by her side and her whole body trembled with the weight of the situation. There was an animal – a snarling, clawing, raging thing – trapped in his chest that wanted nothing more than to destroy the woman that drew such enjoyment from emotionally torturing the princess. Still, he wasn't sure if Emma would appreciate the gesture right now anyway because if looks could kill…

"You betrayed me. You lied to me. You used me."

Each word was enunciated with an inflection sharp enough to make him wince, but it was the shimmering he could see in her eyes that cut deeper than anything.

"No."

And her voice was scathing, biting, when she replied. "_No?_"

"I can't deny I betrayed you, but I made that deal long before I ever knew you." He shook his head morosely. "I've never admitted to being a good man, but you have to know… Emma, I never lied to you. Everything I told you, everything I've ever said to you, was the truth."

"Except everything that you _didn't_ tell me!"

"I know I should have told you…"

"I trusted you… but you played me, Hook. Well done. All of it… gods, none of it mattered and I... _fuck_, I can't believe I trusted you!"

"Please, Emma. I…"

"Don't!" Her eyes were dark and her breaths heavy. "Just don't."

The punch wasn't altogether unexpected. He heard the angry curse moments before the fist connected with his temple. Killian was strong and more than capable of taking a blow, but the sheer force coupled with the fury behind the punch was enough to knock him to his knees and cause his vision to black out for a moment. When it cleared, he saw two of the guards fighting to hold back August who was still trying to lunge towards him looking like he wanted nothing more than to kill him. Killian almost wished he would.

"You really are a fucking bastard." The man spat the words.

Yes. Yes, he was.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for one day. Guards, bring him."

Strong hands clamped down on his shoulders and arms, pulling him from the cell; his feet were dragging the floor and he was halfway down the hallway before he even registered what was happening. Once he collected himself, though, he fought back with a vengeance. He punched and kicked and elbowed, taking advantage of every opening whether it be a cheap shot or not – he was a pirate, after all. Regina could have used her magic to end the struggle immediately, but she let it play out, allowing him to fight the guards for a moment before reaching out and immobilizing him with an enchantment.

"Will you stop accosting my guards, Hook? There's really no point to it."

The men had all stepped back once he'd gone still and appeared to be recovering from his sudden and violent struggle. "What are you doing?" Killian could do nothing but watch as the queen stepped closer to him.

"I'm honoring our arrangement. We agreed the girl for information on the dagger; you've delivered on your end, even if it was reluctantly, so I'll uphold my end as well. But you can't stay here if you expect to retrieve the dagger."

"I won't leave her."

"You don't have a choice, Hook." Regina's eyes moved to a point over his shoulder and then the guards had returned, an arm reaching around his neck and locking him in a chokehold.

"Just…" He choked the words out around the arm that was squeezing against his throat. "… let me say something."

As he struggled, he noticed Emma's lip curl up in contemptuousness. "There's nothing more I want to hear from…"

"When did I save you?"

The arm around his neck loosened somewhat, giving him the chance to face Emma fully. The look of disdain hadn't left her face but confusion had joined it, pulling her brows down into a perplexed expression. "What?"

"That night in Tortuga, the first night we met – when did I save you?"

The wheels were turning as she tried to figure out the meaning in his question. "Hook, what the hell are you talking about?!"

Straining against the arms that held him, Killian leaned towards her, wanting to be as close to her as possible as he tried to get through to her. "During the fight, you escaped onto the street. The pirate that came up behind you would've killed you, but I saved your life."

"And your point is?"

"You say that none of it mattered, that it wasn't real, but you didn't tell me your name until after the fight was over." It was his checkmate. "I saved you before I even knew who you were."

She said nothing as her eyes shifted back and forth between his own. He held her gaze, willing her to believe him.

"Emma…" Ruby's voice was a warning.

"A trick…you must have known me. You were just trying to get me to trust you."

He slowly shook his head. "No, love… no tricks. I didn't know who you were. I saved you for no other reason than because I wanted to. There were countless times I could have brought you to Regina, but I didn't. I saved you from that assassin. I never used you, I protected you."

And he saw it. It was quick – a flash of doubt that cut through the scorn in her eyes – and gone before he could blink, but there was no mistaking it. Her walls slammed down, shutting him out once more, and he knew that was his one token of hope. And he'd hold on to that look, that flash of doubt, because it meant that some part of her still believed him, believed _in_ him.

The guards pulled him away then, leading him back through the labyrinth of passages and hallways until they stood at the main entrance to the palace. Regina had followed them and now stood before him as the guards backed away. She still wore the same maliciously cruel grin that she'd sported since first laying eyes on Emma in the dungeon.

"I really was beginning to give up hope. There are only twenty-seven days now before her thirtieth birthday, but now that she's safely within my grasp, I have nothing to fear."

"What will you do with her?"

"Kill her, of course." As if he was a fool for even asking. He thought of when Tinkerbell had explained how Emma's parents had never considered the possibility of killing Regina, choosing instead to focus on a way to peacefully break the curse and spare everyone's lives. The stark line between what made someone a hero or a villain had never been more apparent. "It has to be done right, though. With flair."

He didn't want to know what killing a person with flair meant to someone like Regina.

"Here." Killian caught the tossed items. "Those cuffs will allow you and four others to climb the last remaining beanstalk in the Enchanted Forest. If you manage to make the climb and get past the giant at the top, you'll find the dagger you seek."

* * *

Killian Jones liked to think he was a relatively straightforward man.

Or at least that's what he'd decided after three hundred years of getting to know himself.

He was the type of man that would do whatever it took to ensure his own survival. He'd killed before and pillaged before, had plundered both ports and ships, had been willing to wait centuries for a chance at revenge. It was clear the type of person he was – a pirate.

But as the Evil Queen and her guards disappeared back inside the castle and the doors slammed closed with Emma still trapped inside, he began to formulate a plan; one that disregarded and contradicted everything he'd ever thought he'd known about himself.

It was a fascinating thing to realize that, even after three hundred years, he still had the ability to surprise himself.

* * *

**This was originally supposed to be the one token chapter from Hook's POV, but I foresee a couple more chapters from his perspective in the future. I enjoyed writing him much more than I'd thought.**

**And oh my goodness! All of your reviews regarding the last chapter were just amazing! I love reading your reactions, and I love each and every one of you :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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